


Snowflake

by Crescent_Moon_Demon



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Romance, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 06:57:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2683508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crescent_Moon_Demon/pseuds/Crescent_Moon_Demon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*AU* Swindle had gotten First Aid, and now Vortex was bored. He needed a distraction. Could one Autobot do the trick? Mech/Mech slash</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**C.M.D: I enjoy writing about different pairings, especially exploring different character types. These two started more as a joke and I eventually have grown to love them as equally as my other batch of written characters. One thing to note, I have designed an "age" system of sorts- Younglings that are "16" are legally free to pursue sexual relationships with mechs of any age (especially older), but are not recognized as full mechs and don't receive all their rights until "18". Just for people to understand my thinking process here.**   
**Originally posted on Fanfiction. net, separately, now compiled in one fic.**

* * *

It was no fair that his greasy, little brother always seemed to get the good stuff first.

Vortex scowled as he watched Swindle hurry out the door, racing to the curb to where First Aid stood; the two greeting each other in a fashion that most would call adorable and coo at. It made the helicopter want to purge.

"Hey Brawl," he called lazily over a shoulder plating, not taking his visor away from the window and his two, soon-to-be victims within view. "First Aid is here. Why don't you go outside and say hello to the young love-birds?"

"FIRST AID! HE'S HERE!," came the exuberant roar. "I WANT TO SNUGGLE HIM!" The entire house seemed to shake as Brawl, from which ever room he had just been in, hurried to get outside. There was a scream that was heard clearly through the sound-proof glass, announcing Brawl's amazing success at getting outdoors quickly, before the giant tank was running into Vortex's sight; charging for the little protectobot standing with their youngest sibling.

It was hilarious watching Swindle attempt being heroic, lasting maybe a second as shield to First Aid before Brawl merely knocked him off to the side and cuddled the white mech to his chassis in a crushing hug. The helicopter felt his humor taper off though the longer he watched his idiot of a brother hug Swindle's mechfriend; getting to his pedes angrily and skulking from the room.

"Honestly, what did you expect would happen?" Vortex started at the unexpected statement, turning his helm to the mech leaning against the wall to his berthroom door. The shuttle had his attention fixed on an old datapad in his servos, not even tearing his optics away from his reading as he continued in that bored drawl of his. "Jealousy is most unbecoming of you, my dear brother."

"Blow it out your aft," the grey Decepticon hissed.

"How crude of you. As always." Blast Off sighed, turning off his datapad for a moment, and finally glancing at the psycho. "I didn't think I'd ever see the day when Brawl could make you jealous, of anything. Is it really that bothersome that neither Swindle nor First Aid will allow you to give him hugs? Or is that just your libido grouching like usual?"

Vortex merely glared at his brother before moving on. Not concerned, the brown mech turned his datapad back on, indulging himself in the classic piece of literature he had been enjoying just moments before. From downstairs, Onslaught shouted for Vortex to take a coat if he was going outside, since the meteorologist on the news stream was calling for snow that evening. It was uncertain if the grey mech listened or not as the kitchen door slammed shut behind him.

**xxXxXxx**

Even as infuriating as Blast Off could be sometimes, he was also right. It wasn't like him to be jealous of Brawl and Vortex frowned in confusion at that little fact. What did it mean? Was he really just super horny and upset that he wasn't getting any? "Hmm... Guess so," he mumbled to himself as a pretty femme walked past the helicopter's table; pristine hips and nice, heavy-loaded aft shaking in time with her step.

"Maybe a good frag will do me good," Vortex continued to muse out loud, leaning back in his seat, ignoring the odd looks an old couple were giving him in the booth across from his. "A good, hot and sticky frag. Now... do I want to be spiked or do the spiking? And where the hell will I find someone cheap at this time of orn?"

The Decepticon cocked his helm to the side, thinking deeply. "No, definitely should spike," he nodded, as if having a sexual conversation in public with himself was the most normal thing a 'bot could do. "Someone cute, big chassis and a perk aft. I like my valves nice and tight after all; well lubricated as well."

The couple gaped in horror, getting to their pedes and quickly leaving their table.

Vortex still did not notice them. "Mmmmm... yeah, that should be good. Someone who's maybe a little bit of a screamer too and who won't mind getting on their fragging knees and sucking me off. I'll be a Picasso of fragging and smear that lovely plating in my transfluids. Bet they'd look fragging hot with their lip components parted and my spunk splattered across their cheekpl-"

"S-sir!"

"Hmm?," the helicopter turned to the femme standing beside him, visor flashing as his optics shuttered innocently behind it. The barista, though terrified of this stranger, held her ground; lifting a shaking servo and pointing to the door of the cafe.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave," she hurriedly ordered. "And to not come back."

Vortex glanced from her, to the rest of the patrons looking back at him warily, before shrugging and getting to his pedes. He flipped a credit onto the table, heading to the door with an easy swag in his step. "Your oil tastes like something Brawl would piss out anyways," he commented, before returning to his earlier mumblings about his preference in berth partners.

**xxXxXxx**

"Would you look at that? It's snowing!"

"Fireflight, please pay attention. I don't want to lose you in this big crowd. Skydive, would you kindly take Air Raid's servo please." Silverbolt sighed, shifting the bags of groceries in his arms so he could grab hold of Slingshot before he could go tearing off after some petrorabbit he swore he just saw. "Listen, this is a very big place and I don't want any of you to get lost, so would you please behave," he begged of his creations, hoping that maybe, maybe, this one time they'd listen. Or, at least, two of them might.

But of course, Slingshot was still shouting and cursing loudly, trying to twist out of his grasp. Air Raid was laughing at his brother's misfortune and Skydive was doing his best to grab Fireflight with his other servo as the youngest flyer became more and more enthralled with the falling snow. Sometimes it was hard to believe that all of his sons were younglings, nearing mechhood. The concord couldn't help but sigh again.

"Alright, we just have to stop at the accessory shop so Skydive can pick up his honours pin for his graduation, and then we're heading on home," Silverbolt informed everyone. "Slingshot, since you want to cause so much trouble, you get to stay with me for the rest of the trip. Skydive, I am placing you in charge with watching your brothers."

"Of course, mom," Skydive replied respectively.

"Stupid slagger, you can't just go- ack!" Slingshot turned and snarled at Air Raid, trying to lunge at the F-15 eagle jet who had just smacked him upside the helm. He was halted from doing so by the quick tug on the scarf his creator still held in his grasp, effectively stopping the younger mech from tackling his laughing sibling.

"Alright, everyone, let's move," Silverbolt ordered tiredly, already marching off in the direction of the last shop of the orn. His sons started to follow.

"They really are pretty though...," Fireflight commented at the rear of the group, his optics fixed wholly on the sky above. "The way they shimmer and sparkle, drifting down like little feathers. I wonder if they're soft too!" The phantom jet hold his servos up into the air, trying to catch the snowflakes. But no sooner would his plating touch one, then it melted, leaving only behind the glimmer of contact in its wake. Intrigued by the strange occurrence, Fireflight weaved through the people around him distractedly, trying to find a better spot to catch snowflakes from. Neither him nor his family noticed when he wandered away from them.

So fixated on the heavy clouds above was he, that the small mech didn't notice the Decepticon heading towards him from the opposite direction, until the two of them collided, falling to the floor.

"Listen," croaked the stranger. "If you're going to knock me down, can you have the decency to at least spike me afterwards?"

"What? Oh...," Fireflight pushed himself up dazedly, confused by the other's words. "I'm very sorry. I was busy trying to catch snowflakes."

Vortex shuttered his optics behind his visor. "You were... what?," he mumbled, having almost missed entirely what the Autobot had just said. He was too busy after all gawking at that lovely red and white plating, and those large, innocent baby blue optics.

"Snowflakes!," chirped the cutie merrily. He stood up, pointing to the sky with his finger. "See how they're all falling down? They're so pretty and fluffy, and I thought I would catch one to feel how soft it is. But I guess I am too warm, seeing as they melt before I have the chance to tell..."

This mech was a nutcase! And the helicopter liked it.

"Yeah, I'd definitely say you're hot," he purred, scrambling up and slinging an arm around the shorter 'bot's shoulder plating. "Say, why don't you and me go find a warm place of our own, hmm?"

His rotor blades shivered at the wicked thoughts Vortex was having just there and then, brushing sensually up along the jet's wings. Fireflight giggled a little, finding the touch ticklish, turning his helm up to the Decepticon. "You're a funny mech," the youngling laughed some more. "I'm already warm, but I'm not surprised you're cold. You're not even wearing a scarf and my mommy is always telling me to take good care of myself so I don't get a virus."

"Uh..." Vortex gaped at the Autobot, though he knew the other couldn't see it behind his mask. Mommy? What was this mech, like five stellar cycles old? Who referred to their creator anymore as 'mommy'? The grey mech frowned, studying the other 'bot intently. Well, he was indeed a little short, and not as busty as Vortex usually preferred yet not entirely flat either, so it didn't appear as if the jet was too young. At least not in the physical sense.

But...

"Just how old are you anyways?," the helicopter asked uncertainly, cutting off Fireflight's jabbering.

"Oh well, I'll be sixteen stellar cycles come the next quartex, but my brothers are all older than me. Skydive is going to be graduating soon, top of his class. Mommy's really proud," he answered cheerfully, unwinding the scarf from around his neck.

Sixteen and the 'bot didn't get that Vortex was trying to take him somewhere private so he could frag the mech's processor into meltdown. Definitely a virgin. The Decepticon wasn't really sure if he wanted to tap that anymore, though a sealed 'bot's valve was always the tightest. They were just too clingy and needing "love" most of the time. Hmmm... it would be a tough decision indeed, Vortex noted.

"Anyways, here," Fireflight was saying, bringing the helicopter out of his thoughts. The phantom jet reached up, even going on his pede-tips, just to toss the scarf over the other's stunned helm. Smiling warmly, the Autobot then fixed everything, making sure the scarf was snug around Vortex's neck cables but not enough to choke him. He did not notice that this brought their faces close together. "It's not much, but a scarf will help make sure you don't get an infection in your vocalizer at least. Slingshot got one there one time and it made him really cranky. He complained about it for orns, and mommy looked really tired at the end of it all. You'll be warmer this way anyhow and mmhppmhph!"

Well, youngling or not, the stranger was cute. Vortex quickly snapped his mask back, lunging forward and catching the Autobot's lip components in a fierce kiss. At the unexpected assault, Fireflight gasped, giving the psychotic mech the chance to slip his glossa into his mouth and ravage the area within. Mewling, as core temperatures rocketed and pleasure zinged across his sensory grid, the flyer reached out and grasped the Decepticon's shoulder plating; blunt fingers digging in between the seams painfully.

Ohhhh... Vortex groaned, pulling the phantom jet flush to his frame as his lust was fanned by the harsh grip. Yes, this 'bot was definitely a keeper. He couldn't wait for whatever lovely gifts the Autobot would bestow upon him once he actually got under that plating.

Nipping playfully along the other's bottom lip component, the grey mech finally withdrew, sorely tempted just to dive right back in when he saw Fireflight staring up at him in a flushed daze. "You liked that, did you snowflake?," the Decepticon smirked, getting hotter by the astrosecond. "How 'bout you let me take you home then, show you something even better. I promise it'll be good."

The jet's blush deepened, his wings twitching behind him a little. "I-i-i-i," he stammered.

"Fireflight! Fireflight, where are you?," a voice called, startling the white and red mech.

"O-oh!," he cried, turning his helm away from Vortex. "That's my family. Oh no, I guess that means I lost them again. I hope I didn't worry them too much..."

Vortex pouted at the proclamation. Autobot families were always such a bother sometimes. "Well, I suppose I'll get going," he sighed sulkily. He released Fireflight, turning on his pede and starting off in the other direction.

"But, oh, didn't you want to see my mommy and brothers?," the phantom jet called after him. "I could come play at your house after."

Aww, he thought they were just going to go play or something. Honestly, the flyer's naivety was quite adorable. Vortex chuckled, shaking his helm as he paused, looking back to Fireflight. "No worries, we'll 'play' another day," he grinned wickedly, reaching up and clicking his mask into place.

"Ah, okay!," Fireflight beamed. That only lasted for about a nanoklik before the smile dropped from the youngling's face as confusion made itself known. "But how will I find you? I don't know your name."

"FIREFLIGHT!?," screamed an impatient voice. The Autobot jumped, turning his helm to the side anxiously. When Vortex spoke again, he made sure to give the Decepticon his whole attention.

"Don't worry about it, kiddo," Vortex assured, his rotor blades fluttering lightly behind him. "I'll find you. Trust me." Then he turned around again, quickly hurrying away before he was spotted by any of Fireflight's older siblings or creator.


	2. First Date

“So.... wait a minute.” Swindle leaned forward an inch, before wisely changing his mind and leaning farther back. “You're telling me that you've found someone to harass?,” he asked, stunned.

 

Vortex beamed, nodding his helm in reply. When his brother had demanded on dragging him out to tell him some “interesting news”, Swindle had honestly thought it was going to be some random, crazy bit of trouble that the helicopter had gotten into recently. He had not, for the life of him, honestly expected to hear that Vortex was supposedly enamoured with some 'bot. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad news.

 

The jeep thought about that for a moment. “....Does this mean you'll stop creeping First Aid out?”

 

“Well, I can't promise that,” the grey mech chirped, “But I do believe I'll be a little too preoccupied with my new cutie to steal yours for the time being.”

 

Swindle wasn't really comforted by that fact. He shook his helm, stirring his latte. “And I'm guessing you haven't told any of the others, huh? Otherwise, I'm sure I would have heard mention of this before, either from Brawl's moronic yelling or dad's.... terrifying enthusiasm.”

 

“Nope,” was the cheerful answer. “I didn't want to scare him off just yet. He's nowhere near as timid as First Aid, but he's very innocent. I don't want to miss the chance to corrupt my lil' snowflake before anyone else can get their servos on him.”

 

Of course. Trust his brother to be fixated on taking someone's innocence. Swindle merely grunted back to that statement, lifting his cup to his mouth. “If he hasn't fled from you yet, I doubt the family will make much difference,” he muttered under his intakes.

 

He must have either said that louder than he had intended, or Vortex had some scary hearing, because the helicopter reached over in one fluid swoop; knocking his oil out of his servos and all down the entrepreneur's front. Biting back the yelp of pain (because he just knew it would make the psycho happy to hear it), Swindle grabbed a fistful of napkins, hurrying to wipe the burning liquid off. “What the slag is your problem?!,” he growled.

 

Vortex acted like nothing happened. “I will need to....'hire' your services,” he started, fingers tapping at the table top impatiently.

 

The jeep tossed aside the soaked napkins, scowling at the abrupt change in topic. “And just what exactly do you need my help for?,” he asked.

 

“Weeeeeeell,” his brother drawled, “See, I need to get my cutie alone for a little while, but that seems to be a harder thing to accomplish than I had first anticipated. His family makes sure that he goes to school and goes straight home afterwards. Normally, this wouldn't really pose much of a problem.... but his brothers playing as bodyguards up the difficulty level. Not to mention his creator is an over-protective hen. If I want to be able to have time with my sweet fairy, I need to get him away from his family -without worrying him or alerting the authorities.”

 

“And that's where I come in,” Swindle sighed, catching on. “Because I'm the most 'normal' of our family, you want me to go and pester this poor mech's family until he's given permission to go out.”

 

“I thought First Aid might help put the family at ease as well,” Vortex added in.

 

The tan mech frowned. If Vortex was including First Aid into his schemes, something was definitely up. “Just one question,” Swindle demanded, “How old is this 'bot your chasing?”

 

“Oh, chill out,” the other Decepticon pouted, “It's not like I'm robbing the cradle or anything. Well, not in the literal sense.”

 

“Vortex....”

 

“He's only a few stellar cycles younger us. A youngling of about sixteen, to be exact. He'll be all grown up and graduated shortly, I promise. Scout's honor.”

 

“What honor?,” Swindle snorted. “You don't have any honor. And that's still illegal, you know that?”

 

The red visor flashed, gleaming in a way that sent chills down the jeep's backstruts. “I know,” came Vortex's mischievous reply. “I know.”

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

“W-we're going to see Vortex?!”

 

First Aid came to an abrupt stop, the distracted flyer slamming into his back with a small 'oomph'. Ignoring him for the time being, Swindle turned his attention to his mechfriend, servos held up placatingly. “I told you,” he tried to explain, “It's a.... weird situation. Which is why I needed your help! Besides, he promised to leave us alone for a while if we could get Fireflight to come out for a little bit.”

 

“B-but.....,” the medic frowned, optics dimming in disappointment. “You s-said we were getting a friend of yours, and going for some oil and cakes. You never said that w-we were bringing Fireflight to meet Vortex.”

 

“That means you made me lie,” he added as an after thought, his tone becoming even more sad.

 

Swindle felt his spark wither and scurried to First Aid's side immediately. “I'm sorry, really!,” he replied. “Please, don't me mad at me. It was only this once, and only for a couple cycles. If it makes you feel any better, I promise that we won't let Fireflight out of our sights.”

 

“I think you should forgive him.....,” Fireflight not-so-subtly hissed from the other Autobot's left, “He does look very sorry. I don't know what for, but he is all the same!”

 

First Aid looked at the youngling before sighing and turning his optics back to Swindle. “Just this once?,” he asked.

 

The tan mech nodded his helm quickly in answer.

 

“C'mon! Let us hurry to the cafe,” Fireflight interjected again. “I want some cake.”

 

“Alright,” the medic conceded, ignoring the exuberant Autobot's last statement. “Let us hurry then. I don't want to cause any trouble.”

 

“Oh, of course not!,” Swindle exclaimed. Happily, he took First Aid's servo, smiling when he saw his lover relax at his touch; optics dimming softly in love just for him. “Just this way!,” he directed, leading them to the cafe that Vortex had told him to come to.

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

“It's Mr. Stranger!,” Fireflight chirped merrily.

 

Swindle was not that surprised when they got to the cafe, only to find that Vortex seemed to have arrived there before them, scaring half of the patrons in the process. What did shock him though, and First Aid as well, was when the helicopter turned at the cheery exclamation; zipping across the room, mask retracting and scooping the phantom jet up into a passionate kiss. “Why hello adorable,” Vortex purred, finally pulling back after a klik.

 

Fireflight shuttered his optics up at the Decepticon dazedly, his cheekplates stained pink with his blush. “Mr. Stranger, why do you always kiss me that way?,” he innocently asked, tipping his helm downwards a little in shyness.

 

“Because I like to,” the grey mech answered eagerly. “Why do you ask?”

 

“W-well, mommy a-and my br-brothers o-only kiss my c-cheekplates and f-forehead. N-not my mouth,” the flyer stuttered in reply.

 

“Ah....,” Vortex hummed, mask clicking back into place as he looped an arm around Fireflight's shoulders, leading him further into the cafe. First Aid hurried after the pair anxiously; Swindle following at a much slower pace.“Well then, this will be our special way of greeting each other. So that means no one else can kiss your cute lil' mouth, okay?”

 

“O-okay.....”

 

“I thought you had said you couldn't get a moment alone with him,” the jeep hissed, sliding into the chair across from his brother once they'd arrived at their table.

 

The helicopter ignored him for a moment, setting Fireflight on his lap and happily cuddling the youngling, who giggled in response at the affection. “Hellos and goodbyes don't count,” he eventually answered.

 

First Aid though was uncomfortable with the whole thing, and poked Swindle nervously with a finger. Turning to his mechfriend, the entrepreneur was met with a serious look, and a finger jab in the other two's direction. “Please switch seats with Fireflight,” the medic requested.

 

The tan Decepticon cast a frightened glance over his shoulder plating. His brother looked utterly thrilled to have Fireflight with him at the moment..... He really would prefer not to get in between that. But one look back at his lover told Swindle that he was just not going to win this battle, and so, he nervously cleared his vocalizer; drawing at the very least, the flyer's attention. “H-hey, Fireflight..... w-why dontcha c-come sit here with F-first Aid?”

 

“Okay!,” the youngling chirped, wriggling out of Vortex's suddenly lax hold. The psycho had gone completely still when he heard Swindle even dare to mention that suggestion, and was now listing the many ways he was going to torture his little brother as the jeep and the jet traded spots. Chuckling weakly, because he just knew he was in serious trouble now, Swindle took the empty chair beside Vortex; inching as far away as was allowed without being blatantly obvious that Vortex scared the slag out of him.

 

“I had thought you and First Aid were going out for a date,” the grey mech said, helm cocked to the side. His tone pitched a little higher. “What happened there, _my dear, lovely brother?_ ”

 

“Hey, don't blame me!,” Swindle hissed, glancing at First Aid quickly; glad to see that his lover's attention was fixed wholly on the youngling bouncing beside him. “You're the one who told me to bring First Aid along to coerce the parents. There was no way he was going to let Fireflight out of his sight after that.” He did not bother to mention that the reason for that was because even the medic thought Vortex was insane and would not subject a poor, innocent mech to the Decepticon's twisted machinations.

 

Huffing in annoyance, the helicopter thankfully turned his attention away from Swindle. “Fine,” he growled from the side of his mouth, “But you can pay for your own date.”

 

The jeep rolled his optical sensors, but did not comment on it. As long as it meant he wasn't getting beaten up or humiliated at this very moment, he wasn't going to complain.

 

In the meanwhile, First Aid and Fireflight were going through the cafe's menu. “What kind of cakes do you like, Fireflight?,” the medic asked, glancing at his new friend.

 

“Oooh,” the jet sighed dreamily. “I love them all really. The sweet ones, the tart ones; big ones and small ones. I like the ones that have cream filling, or that have fruits inside of them. But -oh, oh! The ones made of icecream are my absolute favourite!”

 

First Aid chuckled lightly at the answer. “That is indeed a lot. I too enjoy cakes, but for today, I think I'll just have a slice of the Angel Food cake. How about you?”

 

“Hmmmm....,” Fireflight poured over the list of cakes, a finger pressed to his lip components in serious contemplation. Optics brightening as the flyer came to a decision, he exclaimed, “I'll have the strawberry shortcake. I absolutely love strawberries!”

 

“So do I,” Vortex purred, his gaze fixed entirely on Fireflight. The youngling smiled back, while Swindle and First Aid shared various looks of concern and annoyance.

 

“You've only got a cycle,” Swindle hissed in reminder to the helicopter, as the other two placed their orders. A stomp on his pede was his only response. When the cakes came, the jeep was glad for the distraction; stealing a few moments of First Aid's time was worth it when his mechfriend graciously forked him a piece of his cake, holding it out for the other to taste.

 

Seeing what the medic did, Fireflight wanted to do the same. “Mr. Stranger.....?,” he started shyly.

 

“It's 'Vortex', kid,” the grey mech answered kindly. “Call me Vortex. And what does my snowflake want?”

 

The phantom jet held up his fork with it's generous piece of shortcake. “W-would you like to t-try?,” Fireflight asked, blushing cutely.

 

A rotor blade twitched behind Vortex. “Ah, thank you,” the helicopter cooed, “But I'm alright. I can only eat certain sweet things.”

 

'Yeah. The ones whose name start with F and end with Flight,' Swindle commented snidely in his helm. He got elbowed in the side for that from Vortex, making him truly believe for a terrifying moment that his brother could read his thoughts. At the answer, Fireflight's expression saddened and he lowered his fork to his plate slowly. “Oh.....”

 

“Now, now. Cheer up, my lil' butterfly,” Vortex placated, reaching forwards and plucking a ripe strawberry right off the piece of cake. He swirled its tip in a rich dallop of icing, before pressing the fruit against the flyer's lip components. Shuttering his optics in surprise, Fireflight opened them slowly, allowing the Decepticon to ease the strawberry into his mouth. Two rotor blades twitched as Vortex's index finger got caught between those two plates for an astrosecond.

 

“Enjoy your cake,” he continued, tone a little huskier then just a moment before. “I like to see you happy.”

 

“A-alright,” the youngling smiled, swallowing the strawberry and beaming up at the grey mech. Pleased with the answer, Vortex hunched over, resting his chin on the table top; watching unflinchingly as the jet returned to his treat, humming contently under his intakes as he did so. First Aid glanced at the psycho uncertainly, but a touch from Swindle had him looking at the entrepreneur.

 

“Don't worry,” the jeep smiled wryly in comfort, “As long as we're here, nothing's going to happen. Besides, we'll need to take Fireflight back home soon enough.”

 

The medic nodded slowly. What his mechfriend said was true. Grinning a little more broadly, Swindle leaned across the table, propping his chin in his servo. “Now, let me help you finish that cake,” he added cheekily.

 

First Aid giggled, cutting another piece to feed to his beloved Decepticon.


	3. Questions

Vortex was as happy as happy could be.

 

He nuzzled the warm neck cables within his reach, burying his olfactory sensor all the way down to the white plating, grinning crookedly at the little mewl it drew from the 'bot caught in his grasp. Fingers tapped against his arms anxiously, a red aft squirming deliciously against his pelvic plating. “I-i-i-i thought,” stuttered a cute vocalizer, “W-we were going to play.”

 

“And we will,” the helicopter cooed back. He hugged his prey tighter. “We will, I promise. I just want to snuggle you a little more.”

 

Fireflight, the object of Vortex's affections, blushed lightly at the other's words, squirming again when the Decepticon's olfactory sensor brushed along a sensitive cable in his neck, tickling him. He didn't quite understand why his new friend liked to hug him a lot, but he wasn't one to complain too much, since he liked giving affection himself. He just really wanted to play some games, like Vortex had said they would.

 

“B-but,” he protested kindly, trying to catch Vortex's fleeting attentions, “Mommy will be c-coming soon to pick me up. And we haven't done anything at all!”

 

Slag..... The grey mech cursed, pulling back a little and setting his chin on Fireflight's shoulder plating. The phantom jet had a point there. It had taken all of his acting, and coercing First Aid and Swindle into helping, that Vortex had even been able to tear the little Autobot away from his over protective family. But he only had the couple cycles, and already that time bracket was closing on him. There just wasn't enough time to indulge in his usual series of fun, sticky debauchery.

 

Sensing the irritation and disappointment in his new friend, Fireflight twisted in the Decepticon's hold until he was able to face him; lifting a servo to Vortex's helm and pressing it to his forehead. “Are you okay, Vortex? You seem kinda down,” the flyer noted. “Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?”

 

'Oh, you have no idea.....,' the helicopter grinned wickedly to himself. “How nice of you to offer, snowflake,” he said out loud, retracting his mask and pecking Fireflight on his lip components. He tried not to lean back in when he felt a shy, uncertain pressure be returned. “Well, since you've mentioned it.... I was wondering, what's your opinion on.... sleepovers?”

 

“Sleepovers?!,” the phantom jet perked up immediately, his optics sparkling in delight. “I used to have sleepovers with my brothers, when they weren't so busy. But I haven't had them in a long time..... I'd really, really love to have one again!”

 

“I'm glad to hear it,” Vortex cooed. His fingers snaked under the Autobot's wings, pinching at a tip before rubbing it in a soothing manner. The action brought a shiver from Fireflight; cheekplates darkening as he set a nervous servo on the Decepticon's arm. “So, now all I need you to do is ask your mommy if you can spend the night. You think you can do that, snowflake?”

 

Fireflight slowly nodded his helm. “U-umm..... wh-when?,” he asked.

 

The grey mech nuzzled those warm neck cables again, thinking it over. As much as he wanted to have the flyer come back to his place tonight, he wasn't entirely prepared yet. He should allow for more time, so he could actually get the jet away from his family for the night. “Hmm..... how about this weekend? That way, your creator won't have a reason for not letting you come,” he answered.

 

“O-okay,” Fireflight smiled. His wings fluttered happily as Vortex wrapped him up again snugly, purring against his shoulder plating. The youngling squirmed a little though when he felt those lip components peck lightly at his frame, denta nibbling at a neck cable. “Wh-what....,” he stuttered, blushing brightly, “A-are you d-doing, Vortex?”

 

The helicopter frowned a little, pulling back and resting his chin on the Autobot's shoulder plating. “You really ask a lot of questions don't you......”

 

“S-sorry.....”

 

Vortex sighed, tightening his grip on the flyer. “Nah, don't worry about it kid. I'll teach you everything you need to know soon enough.” There was the hint of suggestion in his tone. Not that Fireflight noticed.

 

“R-really?,” he gasped. “You'll show me new things?”

 

The psycho couldn't help but to smirk. “Of course,” he answered. 'I'll teach you so many, many things, my sweet lil' virgin~'

 

The jet went to open his mouth but stopped when his comm started to beep. Vortex frowned, knowing it was time for the other's family to pick him up. Smiling apologetically, Fireflight hugged the Decepticon, sliding out of Vortex's lap and bouncing onto his own pedes. “I'll see you later then?,” he asked, a little nervously.

 

Vortex grinned, just for the white mech. “Definitely. Comm me, snowflake.” Then he rose to his pedes, leaning forwards to kiss Fireflight in farewell again, relishing the little mewl he drew from the Autobot. When he pulled back though, he hurried to get out sight; watching through the crowds as a larger, white mech -that he had learned was the flyer's creator- came and picked him up. Content in the knowledge that his snowflake was in good servos, the grey mech turned, heading back for his own home.

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

“You're doing.... what now?”

 

Blast Off set his cup down, glancing from his sire sitting tersely at one end of the table, to his insane brother at the other and back again. “You've done it now,” he declared flatly. Neither of the mechs paid him any attention.

 

“A sleepover,” Onslaught went on, cycling a deep intake. “The last time you even went to one of those, I had to pick you up a cycle later, because you'd hog-tied the rest of the sparklings and you were going to sacrifice one of them to invoke the spirit of 'fun' for the evening. Now you want to have your own sleepover?”

 

“Yep!,” Vortex chirped pleasantly.

 

_'Are you trying to make him mad? Or are you just that ignorant?,'_ Blast Off asked across the bond. The helicopter spared him a scathing glare.

 

“And why,” the truck asked lowly, leaning forward across the table menacingly, “Should I allow you to do this?”

 

Vortex leaned in as well, rotor blades twitching faintly in his amusement. “Because it's a special party for two.”

 

The two other Decepticons were stunned by this admission. “You're bringing a whore here?,” Blast Off was the first to say, staring at his brother in unadulterated shock.

 

Onslaught straightened in his chair, visor flashing angrily. “I have no problem with you banging whichever 'bot you choose, but I refuse to allow some dirty, thieving slut to come into my h-”

 

“He's not a whore,” the grey mech growled viciously, cutting off his sire's beginning rampage. The blood-red visor flared at each of them, a continuous growl coming from Vortex's systems. “He isn't some dirty, thieving floozy so I would hold my glossa if I were you.”

 

Blast Off sighed dramatically, getting to his pedes. “Unless you give evidence otherwise, what else are we to think? It's not like you even comprehend the notion of love,” he said in a passing remark, before heading out of the dining room. Onslaught though had not even taken his optics off of his son.

 

“Who is he?”

 

“Oh, no one you know,” Vortex replied calmly, his earlier anger gone. Or so it seemed.

 

The truck glared. “How am I to be certain then of yours and his intentions in my house?”

 

“Well, that's simple. I plan to frag him like no tomorrow,” the helicopter answered delightedly. “Obviously.”

 

Onslaught frowned, but couldn't come up with a proper rebuttal. If his son truly wanted to bring a “friend” over and then screw him, well, he couldn't really say no all that much. But he did find the entire thing odd after all, since most of his children refrained from bringing any of their dates home. Certainly, none of them were so bold as to frag under his roof. “Oh, and could I borrow thirty creds?,” Vortex piped up. “I need to buy my cutie some goodies before he comes over tonight,” he smoothly added at the disapproving stare he received from his sire.

 

“I supp- wait, tonight?!” Onslaught growled. “Tell me, why did you wait until tonight to ask me if he could come over, if you'd already planned on having him here?”

 

The grey mech shrugged. “I had to get everything ready first. I didn't want to be unprepared for when he came. But now I have everything I need, minus the treats, and Swindle is going to go pick him up in the next cycle!”

 

The larger Decepticon didn't know how to respond to that.

 

“That alright Daddy-o? Cool,” Vortex grinned. He pushed out his chair, skipping over to the truck. “Thirty credits, please?”

 

With a sigh, Onslaught pulled out the requested amount, putting it in his son's waiting servo. “I will meet this mysterious mech though,” he fore-warned in ire.

 

“I'm sure you will,” the helicopter chuckled. “And I'm certain you'll be surprised as well.”

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

Surprise didn't even cut it.

 

“You decided to tell the whole fragging family.... didn't you?,” Swindle grumbled, locking the door behind him as he entered the house. In front of the tan mech, bouncing on the tip of his pedes, was Fireflight.

 

“Wow.... you're all so big,” he commented in childish awe, looking up at the Decepticons lined up in wait for their “special guest”. Absolute silence met his remark. Shuttering his optics in mild confusion, Fireflight instead turned his attention to Vortex, who was now approaching him. “Vortex! My mommy let me stay over,” he beamed, holding up his small travel bag in show. “I've packed my favourite pajamas and everything!”

 

“Yes, I know, snowflake,” the helicopter purred, patting the Autobot's helm. “Rust stick?” He pulled out the thin treat, offering it to the smaller mech. A gasp of delight was his reply, before Fireflight snatched the goodie from his servos, sucking on it immediately.

 

“Thank you,” came the belated gratitude.

 

“....Exactly how old is he?,” Blast Off asked, his tone slightly disturbed and annoyed.

 

“WHO CARES? HE'S SO FRAGGING CUTE!! CAN I HUG HIM? CAN I, CAN I, CAN I?!” Brawl bellowed, stomping forward to scoop Fireflight up into his crushing grip. Vortex wrapped an arm around the jet's waist possessively, glaring murder up at the tank. Brawl, with wise insight, backed down. But not without a grumble here and there. Fireflight barely noticed the transaction himself.

 

“He's sixteen,” Swindle scowled, on his way upstairs. “If anyone needs me, I'll be in my room.... pretending none of this is happening.”

 

“Sixteen, hmm?,” Onslaught finally spoke, pushing in front of his other two sons. He crossed his arms behind his back, staring down at the little Autobot. “Speak youngling: what is your name?”

 

Fireflight gaped up at the truck. “He talks like a general,” he whispered, not-so-subtly to Vortex. “My brother Skydive really likes old war stories and strategies.”

 

Onslaught narrowed his optics.

 

“U-umm, Fireflight, s-sir,” the white mech mumbled.

 

“School?”

 

“I-iacon Academy, second year.”

 

“Career plans-”

 

“Yo, Daddy-o,” Vortex cut in dryly, hugging the jet from behind. Fireflight blushed a little at the contact, looking up at the helicopter as best as he could from his position. “You're scaring my new 'friend'. That's not really good manners, yeah?”

 

Onslaught turned his dark gaze to his son, increasing its vehemency. “And you're being awfully disrespectful, son.”

 

The grey mech shrugged. “C'mon, snowflake,” he turned his helm instead to the flyer, letting him go and grabbing his servo. “Let's go up to my room. I have all sorts of treats waiting just for you. You like shrapnel fizzies, yes?”

 

“Yes!,” Fireflight smiled brightly, his entire aura cheering up after the solemn moment.

 

“Good,” Vortex purred, leading the Autobot upstairs.

 

For a klik longer, it was silent in the entry way. “.....you realize that he is essentially luring in an innocent right? And that this could very well be considering illegal,” Blast Off commented snidely.

 

Onslaught shuttered his optics, shrugging. “It doesn't matter,” he said, turning on his pede, heading back into the living room. “As long as he's chasing after something of value, I won't say a word otherwise.”

 

The shuttle shook his helm, refraining from rolling his optical sensors at his sire's nonchalance. “I doubt he's pursuing anything serious in this entire situation,” he muttered, returning to the kitchen.

 

Brawl, forgotten, whimpered sadly at the foot of the stairs, looking up to where Fireflight had disappeared to. “BUT I REALLY, REALLY WANTED TO HUG HIM....,” he said loudly.


	4. Bedsheets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DubCon, manipulation, Oral, Spike n' Valve, sticky

This was going to be too easy.

 

Vortex smirked wickedly, humming some vague response to a comment he hadn't even heard to begin with, slinking closer to the Autobot. It was a delicious sight indeed -Fireflight, stretched out across his sheets, pajama bottoms tight around his aft, wings fluttering slightly as he craned his neck back at the older mech- enough to make anybot froth at the mouth with lust. The Decepticon was proud to say that he was probably the only mech to have this moment shown to him. And he was going to keep it that way.

 

“Is that so, snowflake?,” he asked, crawling onto the berth. Fireflight smiled up at him nervously, wings twitching as the helicopter hovered patiently above him.

 

“Yes. I really am grateful for you inviting me over,” the jet said, hugging the pillow in his arms closer to his chestplates. “And for getting me all these treats. I haven't had fun like this in a while.”

 

Vortex chuckled lowly, leaning down to the Autobot, cycling hot air across the back of Fireflight's neck. “I'm really glad you're happy,” the grey mech purred, a servo rising and hovering over a white wing, “Soon, we'll be having a lot more fun.”

 

“O-oh?,” came the stutter out of the smaller 'bot's vocalizer. The cheekplates were tinged bright magenta from his rising blush, the blue optics glittering in innocent puzzlement. “D-does that mean w-we'll play a game?”

 

“Hmmm, maybe,” the Decepticon sing-songed, wrapping his arms under Fireflight and hoisting the jet up. He hugged the other to his chestplates tightly, debating with whether or not to just molest the Autobot right then and there, or extend the moment, savouring it. The white mech didn't protest the action; in fact, he practically returned the hug, reaching back up, his servos shyly curling around Vortex's forearms. Vortex had a hard time not simply jumping Fireflight at that very moment.

 

“W-what kind of g-games will we play?,” Fireflight asked, shifting so he could look back at the helicopter.

 

“What kind of games do you like, snowflake?,” the older mech returned, eager to hear his younger companion's answer. He was already thinking of ways to twist it, to get Fireflight under him, squirming and screaming as he begged for the Decepticon to give him release.

 

“Oh, well,” the jet beamed, “I like Monopoly the best!”

 

“Mon....oply.....,” Vortex deadpanned. Well, slag.... He didn't know how you could turn a boring aft game like that into a frag session. Why couldn't the Autobot have said something like 'Operation'? He'd have Fireflight out of his clothes and buried in his sweet, little valve so fast, the flyer would need to get his equilibrium chips replaced!

 

Fireflight though was oblivious to the helicopter's disappointment, still smiling brilliantly up at his new friend. “Yes! I like the paper money -it's so cute and fun to play with. Say, what games do you like Vortex?”

 

The Decepticon perked up at the question, seeing it for the opportunity that it was. Leering, Vortex pulled the jet closer, retracting his mask and kissing at his delectable neck cables. “Well,” he drawled, in between his light nibbles, “I do enjoy a nice game of 'hide and seek'.”

 

“H-hide and se-seek?,” the youngling gasped, shivering as the grey mech planted another kiss on his nape. The other merely hummed in response, too fixated on wringing another tremble from the cutie in his arms. “W-when did you want to p-play?”

 

'We've already begun,' Vortex whispered devilishly in his helm. Licking the neck cables as he pulled away this time, the helicopter answered, “How about now? You can hide anywhere you'd like in the house, and I'll come seeking for you.” 'And mount your adorable, lil' aft when I catch you,' he added silently.

 

Fireflight rubbed a little at the back of his nape as he twisted on the berth, facing Vortex. “O-okay,” he smiled nervously, his cheekplates still tinged pink with his blush.

 

“Good,” Vortex hummed. “Well, you better get going then,” he continued, smirking as he slid his servos over his optics. He could hear the Autobot scramble to his pedes as he began the countdown and could just imagine that cute frame bouncing in excitement and anticipation as the flyer hurried out the door, looking for a decent place to hide in this “game” of theirs. “Tick tock, my little lamb,” Vortex cackled as he finally finished his counting. Slowly he slid his servos away from his visor, slinking onto his pedes and towards the berthroom door. “It's only kliks now before you're mine.”

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

Fireflight was on the verge of giggles. He'd never had this much fun with someone that was outside of his family, and it was a really liberating feeling. It made him want to burst out laughing and to never stop. But that might make Vortex give him funny looks, and the jet really didn't want to lose the older mech's friendship -even if the helicopter liked to hug and touch him in weird ways that no one else did, which actually felt really good and made his spark start to pulse really, really fast....

 

The Autobot shook himself from his thoughts, realizing that he'd slowed down, and was standing right in the middle of the hallway for all to see. Knowing that Vortex would soon be chasing after him as part of the game, Fireflight hurried to find himself a good spot to hide. “Oh, excuse me!,” he chirped as he dashed through the living room, searching for that perfect place. But there was only the couches and the t.v stand, with Onslaught and Brawl sitting on them, watching some fighting show. Deciding this wasn't the right spot, the flyer hurried on out, trying not to get to fascinated by all the strange but wonderful things he came across.

 

It was ever so hard though!

 

Everything about Vortex's home was amazing and weird, with all its odds and ends, different placement settings and smells. Fireflight would have loved the chance to just explore the entire place, from top to bottom, to satisfy his increasing curiosity. Padding through the kitchen, the jet was distracted by a little door, tucked away next to the fridge. Unable to resist, the white youngling skipped forward, twisting the knob and cracking the door open. Darkness met his optics, just the sliver of a set of stairs leading down into the black void present for his view. This must have been the basement then.

 

Fireflight hesitated, uncertain if he really wanted to go down there, but he could hear the creaking of pedes on the staircase and heard Vortex call his name. Squeaking lightly, in slight surprise and excitement, the Autobot twisted around the door; shutting it close behind him as quietly as he could, before rushing down to the bottom of the basement.

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

“Have you seen my lovely, little snowflake?,” the helicopter chirped, bouncing into the living room. He cocked his helm, rotor blades twitching excitedly behind him, as he looked at his sire and brother. Brawl shuttered his optics stupidly at the sudden question, while Onslaught merely grabbed the remote, turning the volume up on his show. Vortex was not deterred by this.

 

“Have you? Have you, huh?”

 

“Would you get out of my face,” Onslaught snarled as the helicopter leapt for his lap. “I thought you were going to be keeping an optic on your 'guest' anyhow?”

 

The grey mech giggled insanely, stepping back and swaying in place. “Of course, but we're playing a game at the moment. Hide and go seek, to be precise,” he answered jovially. “I'm the seeker!”

 

“Then go seek,” the truck grumbled, sinking further back into his armchair. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't see past Vortex's frame. “You're blocking my view.....,” the older Decepticon commented lowly, his dark gaze sliding to the psychopath.

 

Vortex, obviously, wasn't concerned about the murderous aura his sire was now exuding. So what if he was standing right in front of the television, effectively interrupting the other's view of his favourite show -it was no dust off of his olfactory sensor. The longer the crazy Decepticon continued to stay where he was, the tenser it got.

 

“You know, if you would only answer me, I'd be more than glad to move aw-”

 

“Fine! He's in the fragging basement! Now move your aft!,” Onslaught roared, upset that he heard 'bots laughing onscreen.... and he didn't even know what the slag just took place! Chirping an “Okay!” in response, Vortex quickly skipped from the room. Brawl opened his mouth to say something, but the crippling glare his sire shot him shut the tank up quick.

 

“Very, very wise, my son....,” he hissed.

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

Finding Fireflight was easier. Like the pro he was, Vortex slunk down the stairs, tip-toeing up behind the Autobot silently. The jet was currently messing with a box of ages old Christmas decorations, a string of sparkling tinsel wrapped around his neck cables like a feather boa; his fingers dangling various, glittering bulbs. His utter fascination and delight made the helicopter practically salivate. Oh, he wanted to mount that little dreamer's aft so hard.

 

“What are you doing now, lovely?,” he husked, grabbing Fireflight from behind and yanking the white mech back into his chestplates.

 

The flyer gasped in that sweet, little way that made Vortex's rotors shiver excitedly, twisting in the Decepticon's grasp from surprise. When his blue optics landed on the older mech, he calmed a little, his cheekplates still tinted lightly with his blush. “I found some pretty decorations,” he smiled, lifting his discovery for Vortex to see. “Were you looking for me?”

 

“Mmm.... I can see that. And we were playing hide and go seek, snowflake. Did you forget? Oh.... I'm so hurt.”

 

“O-oh, no!,” Fireflight cried out, watching as Vortex mockingly pressed a servo to his forehead, pretending as if he was utterly devastated with this fact. “We were playing hide and seek, weren't we? I'm sorry,” the youngling said apologetically, “Here, I'm the seeker now. I'll cover my optics and count to one hundred, and you can hide!”

 

The helicopter gently grabbed the flyer's wrists, pulling his servos away from his optics; chuckling lowly at the look of confusion he was given. “I have another game in mind now,” he purred, slowly forcing Fireflight to the floor. Vortex slipped easily between the other's legs, pinning his arms down above his helm. “One I think you'll really like too.”

 

“V-vo-vortex....?,” Fireflight stuttered, staring up at the Decepticon looming over him. The Autobot gasped again, wriggling as Vortex pressed down on his little frame; grinding their pelvics together, mouth latching onto the visible neck cables. Fireflight bucked when denta nibbled the sensitive cords, the helicopter thrusting against him hard.

 

Oh, this was almost perfect. The jet was gasping and moaning and whimpering underneath him beautifully, thighs spread and trembling as he ground down, their codpieces rubbing together and creating glorious friction. Vortex growled excitedly, letting the vibrations rumble down Fireflight's throat, making him keen at the sensation. Sparing a moment to lick up back up the cables, the grey mech pulled back a little, releasing the youngling momentarily.

 

“Don't you look absolutely scrumptious,” he smirked, thrusting his hips when he saw Fireflight squirm again.

 

“W-what....?,” the youngling cut himself off with a cry of shock, wriggling his aft madly as Vortex wrapped his fingers around the hem of his pajamas, pulling away a little more and yanking the pants down to his ankles. “V-vortex, I-i-i.... I f-feel weird.....,” he hiccupped, glancing at the Decepticon with glazed optics. His cheekplates were stained darkly with energon.

 

Vortex threw the pajama pants somewhere over his shoulder, leaning over and grasping the flyer's hips. Savouring the moment, he pulled Fireflight closer, nuzzling his inner thighs tenderly. “Oh, I know snowflake,” he remarked, chuckling again. “It feels like you've been soaking in an oil bath too long, doesn't it? All hot and wet between your legs.... with an itch, just underneath your plating, where your pretty, little valve is. Waiting to be stuffed for the first time. Oh, your spike must be aching too! I bet it's pushing hard against your codpiece right now, stinging, needing some sort of touch.... valve..... mouth.....”

 

Fireflight whimpered again as Vortex mouthed the words against his pelvic plating; intakes hot and the brush of lip components so sinfully close to his covered interface equipment enough to leave the youngling burning. Confused and a little scared, the Autobot tried to sit up, servos trembling as he tried to push at the grey mech's helm. “V-vortex, I-i-i...d-don't, pl-please, I-”

 

“'Don't?',” the Decepticon replied, visor flashing as he glanced up at the jet. “Calm, snowflake. You trust me, don't you? You know that I wouldn't hurt you, right?”

 

He waited until the other nodded back hesitantly.

 

“See?,” Vortex grinned again, “Now, why don't you pull back that lovely plating of yours? I want to see your adorable self.

 

Fireflight shifted uncertainly, but did as the Decepticon asked, blushing the entire while. He covered his optics though with his servos once his codpiece had retracted, unable to look at Vortex. The helicopter found himself utterly enthralled by the sight before him. He had already assumed the Autobot was a virgin, but he hadn't thought it was to this extent. His valve was covered by an almost opaque, pink skin.... and so was his spike. It was nestled safely in its housing, practically unseen through its seal. Vortex couldn't help the stunned expression he wore. Even most virgins had broken the seal on their spike before hitting their youngling years.

 

“My, my, my....,” the helicopter breathed, excitement and awe filling his tone. He tightened his grip on Fireflight's hips, revelling in the squeak he drew from the jet. “What a rare treat this is.” 'And it's all mine,' he growled possessively in his helm.

 

Courage must have returned to the Autobot, for he withdrew his servos from his optics, pressing once more against the other's helm. “V-v-vortex,” he stuttered sharply, “I-i-i, I think I s-should c-cover up n-now an-an-” Fireflight cut himself off with a shriek, fingers unconsciously digging into Vortex's helm.

 

The psycho groaned merrily at the sharp pressure, but did not pull away from it. At the moment, he had his lip components pressed tight against Fireflight's plating, right above his spike housing. With carefully administered licks, he lapped at the covering, humming in pleasure at the tangy, almost antiseptic taste of a strong and healthy seal. It would take a long time to break this one, but Vortex was going to enjoy every astrosecond of it.

 

“Yes..... yes, c'mon. Come on out for me,” the helicopter husked after a couple kliks, sliding back an inch or two to study his handiwork. He'd all but worn the seal down with his fervent ministrations, and the jet's spike was pushing up against the other side, aching to be released. Fireflight himself was a bundle of nerves and shaking limbs; optics glazed still with lubricant and mouth slightly parted as he panted heavily. “Oh, yes. Just a little more, snowflake. Just a little more longer before the real fun can begin.”

 

Squirming again, Fireflight tried to speak. “V-vortex, I-i-i.....A-ah! .....oww....” Tears splashed down the Autobot's cheekplates as the grey mech's ministrations coerced the youngling's spike to pressurize, finally breaking the sensitive skin protecting it. A fine sheen of energon and lubricant coated it, glittering like rubies under the light of Vortex's heated gaze.

 

“T-that.... that didn't f-feel n-nice...,” the youngling hiccupped in pain. He mewled slightly as the Decepticon rubbed his inner thighs, breathing heavily over Fireflight's spike. “I-i-i don't t-think I want t-to do th-this anymmmm-more.”

 

The helicopter tried not to scowl. “Come now, snowflake,” he attempted to soothe. “That was just a momentary pain. Let me make it better.” He barely waited a moment before he dove forward again, wrapping the thin spike up tight in his mouth; glossa laving at the trembling cable fervently, sucking and nipping like a hungry mech. He was glad to hear Fireflight moan in pleasure again, gasping and clawing at his helm as the jet rocked up into the Decepticon's mouth. Vortex purred, spike pressing against his own codpiece impatiently, as those blunt digits dug deeper; pain and pleasure registering across his sensory net in a heady blend that he just loved. It was such a shame that it couldn't last though, the youngling choking out one, overwhelmed scream, his thighs closing tightly around the helicopter's helm as he shot his load into the other's mouth.

 

Making a sound of contentment, Vortex gulped the thick, hot liquid down, lapping at the spike as it slowly returned to its housing while his servos groped at Fireflight's thighs. “Did you enjoy yourself, snowflake?,” he purred, gently lifting the stiff servos away from his helm. Fireflight mewled softly as he was shifted, being lifted up into the Decepticon's embrace. Lethargically, he tried to grasp Vortex's chestplates, but he could barely get a grip, let alone keep his optics still online. He was utterly helpless when the grey mech leaned in for a kiss, forcing his glossa into the youngling's mouth and sharing with him a taste of his own transfluids.

 

“Just wait.....,” Vortex rumbled lustfully against his lip components. “The real fun is just about to begin.”

 

“V-vortex..... but, I-i.....” Fireflight released a tiny sigh, resting his helm on the helicopter's shoulder plating.

 

“But what, cutie?” Silence met his question. “Snowflake? Hey, Fireflight?” Perplexed, Vortex shifted, unwinding a servo from the flyer's waist and using it to tip back the youngling's helm. The Decepticon was shocked to see that Fireflight has simply passed out from exhaustion.

 

So much for his plans.....

 

The mech couldn't even be bothered to rouse the other from recharge; Fireflight was just that cute. Sighing, Vortex grabbed the Autobot's discarded pajama pants, cradling the white 'bot in his arms as he got back up on his pedes. Well, he supposed he couldn't complain that much, he told himself as he climbed up the basement stairs and to the main floor. After all, he'd gotten to break Fireflight's spike seal and taste his very first load. Vortex was confident he'd also get the chance to break the other one shortly.

 

Engines purring happily, the helicopter snuggled the recharging Autobot in his arms, already lost in simulations of the other fun activities they would soon be participating in.

 

And besides, he could use this opportunity to molest his little snowflake as much as he wanted.


	5. Shattered

First Aid knew he should have called first.

 

“Well, hello gorgeous.”

 

The ambulance tried to back away quickly, but the servo that lashed out suddenly wrapped tight around his wrist, pulling him back onto the porch. Growing nervous, First Aid started to squirm. “L-let me go, Vortex,” he demanded, only the slightest tremor in his vocalizer. It was enough to make the Decepticon grin though.

 

“Why should I? You here for that lil' grease ball Swindle.... or myself?,” the psycho questioned sugarly. “Come, come now. There's no need to struggle so much.”

 

First Aid tugged again on his captured wrist; his other servo trying to keep the encroaching claws from scraping anywhere on his plating. “I d-don't appreciate what you're saying,” the pacifist bravely spoke up. “Y-you're dating Fireflight, are you not? W-why are you bothering me?!”

 

The helicopter shrugged carelessly, rotor blades twitching as he finally managed to grab hold of the Autobot's waist, pulling First Aid flush against his frame. “So what? Ah, c'mon. I _know_ you like me, Aid,” he cooed, groping the other's aft, “Don't tell me that you don't. So why don't you and me head on upstairs, hmm?”

 

“N-no!,” First Aid cried, trying to kick and punch the Decepticon. Vortex merely laughed at his pitiful attempts, forcing the white mech backwards; pinning him to the wall. “S-stop it, V-vortex. I don't want to do this with you. I like Swindle!”

 

The grey mech merely cocked his helm to the side, frighteningly silent. “Well, we'll just have to see about that, _won't we?_ ,” he questioned, retracting his mask. An insane smile glittered down on the medic, making First Aid shiver. Chuckling lowly, Vortex leaned forward, his mouth heading straight for the other's neck cables.

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

Humming happily, Fireflight skipped down the sidewalk; a bag of copper drops in his servos and a smile wide across his lip components. He knew he should have been concerned, since he seemed to have lost his family again when he went in to buy that bag of treats, but he couldn't be bothered about it at this moment. It was with a burst of sudden inspiration that the jet thought to go visit Vortex and share his goodies with his friend.

 

He knew the Decepticon would be overjoyed to see him, and it was that knowledge that had Fireflight all in a twitter.

 

See, he had decided he really liked Vortex. The older 'bot always got him all sorts of toys and candies, and he liked touching the Autobot in ways he had told the youngling was a secret and that no one else should do. Fireflight would admit they were weird forms of contact, but they felt really good, and Vortex liked to hug and kiss him a lot afterwards. The helicopter was really nice to him, and it made the flyer super happy. And since Vortex had always been so kind to him, Fireflight thought his friend was deserving of a treat; a way for the Autobot to show his own gratitude to the older mech.

 

Which was why he was skipping his way to the Decepticon's house now (he knew the way, after coming over ever so often), swinging his bag of candy side to side in his excitement.

 

Rounding the bend, the youngling was happy to see the big house just ahead. And Vortex was out on the porch too! Fireflight increased his pace, noticing only an astrosecond that First Aid was there as well, and he was awfully.... close..... to Vortex....

 

“See, I knew it,” the jet could hear the grey mech say from across the front lawn. He slowed to a stop. “I really knew you wanted me. Primus, First Aid.... always coming over with your red and white plating all gleaming.... You were just begging me to take you, weren't you?”

 

Vortex hadn't noticed him yet. Why hadn't Vortex noticed him?

 

Why did he say that about First Aid's plating?

 

“Primus, you're just a fragging tease, aren't you, First Aid,” Vortex continued, leaning forwards, so that his lip components were almost brushing along the medic's mouth guard. His free servo reached down the other Autobot's frame, groping as it went.

 

Trembles overcame the unwilling watcher.

 

No....n-no.....

 

“Well, I'm just going to split your legs open right here and now and have my way with your pretty little self. I'll have you screaming my name to the stars above shortly.” As if to seal the deal, the helicopter pressed even closer to First Aid, mouth reaching for taut neck cables; First Aid writhing uselessly in the bigger mech's hold. “And now I've got you all to myself, cutie....”

 

Copper rang as it hit the concrete, rolling off in several different directions.

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

Something clattered behind him, and Vortex all but snarled at the interruption. Glaring, he pulled back from First Aid, missing the other's hushed whisper as he turned that look over his shoulder plating. Whatever animosity he felt at that instant disappeared immediately as he found himself looking back into equally wide, and stunned optics. “F....fireflight?”

 

The jet started at the call of his name, the coolant that had collected in his optics splashing down his cheekplates finally. Horrified, Fireflight twisted on his heel, running back the way he had come; crushing his copper drops under his pedes as he went.

 

The youngling didn't even look back once.

 

First Aid watched Fireflight run off, his spark aching in empathy for the other Autobot. Clenching his fists, the ambulance shoved all his weight forward, throwing the dazed Decepticon away from him. Vortex landed against the railing, a surprised gasp escaping him, yet he did not move. “You....y-you jerk!,” First Aid shouted at him, his own optics glazed with tears. It looked like the medic wanted to scream something more at him, but he couldn't get the hateful words past his vocalizer. Shaking his helm angrily, First Aid hurried off the porch, calling after Fireflight as he ran to catch up with the flyer.

 

Vortex stayed as he was, leaning heavily against the porch railing, his disbelieving gaze stuck to the floor beneath his pedes.


	6. Monsters

These days, Fireflight seemed.....

 

Well, to put it simply, even more space-cased than he usually was. Sure, he could get caught up in his thoughts quickly and wander off to investigate whatever got his recent fancy, but this was definitely worse.

 

The phantom jet was always in a constant daze, humming joyfully under his intakes as he weaved this way and that; skipping as he went and smiling with utter contentment. Sometimes he quieted, but it was only for an astrosecond, before his cheekplates would lighten momentarily with a blush, and then he'd be back to skipping, humming, smiling and all the rest.

 

“.... he's weird,” Air Raid commented snidely, as they were reflecting on this.

 

“No, not weird, brother,” Skydive corrected, “It is more likely that Fireflight is in love.”

 

The other two Autobots looked at him strangely. Frowning slightly, the falcon jet turned his olfactory sensor back to his book, ignoring his brothers. Slingshot scoffed, looking over his shoulder plating darkly. “Impossible,” he grumbled, mostly to himself. “It's a monster, that's what it is. A monster stalking Fireflight. He's got him all twisted up and hypnotized, I tell ya! And soon.... soon he'll eat our baby brother. Mark my words.”

 

This time, it was the other two looking at the harrier jump jet weirdly. Smirking evilly, Air Raid tip-toed up behind the shorter mech, jumping into the air and screaming “BOOGA BOOGA!!”, straight into Slingshot's audio. His brother almost leapt out of his plating; whirling around and snarling at the practical joker.

 

Skydive wisely kept his helm turned down and his audio receptors blocked as the two began racing around the kitchen, yelling something -probably threats- as Slingshot tried to grab hold of a laughing Air Raid. Despite having the volume turned down, even the oldest flyer heard the front door slam open and frantic pedes take the stairs two, three at a time, before another door was slamming shut upstairs. Slingshot and Air Raid turned to look at the falcon jet, their expressions wrought with confusion and slight trepidation.

 

“If mom and dad are still out at the store.....,” Air Raid started.

 

“Then that must be Fireflight,” Slingshot finished. The harrier jump jet spat to the side, fists clenching at his hips unconsciously. “See? I told you there was going to be trouble! But none of you listened to me. Serves you right, you slagging m-”

 

“Slingshot, please,” Skydive cut in tersely. The oldest sibling put aside his book, getting to his pedes slowly. “It sounds as if Fireflight is really upset about something. Instead of bickering, shouldn't we be trying to find out what that something is? Or, otherwise, comforting him?”

 

The shorter youngling had the decency to look embarrassed. Grumbling still under his intakes, he nodded. “Let's go see how 'Flight is doing,” he agreed, turning and marching out of the room. The other two followed his lead.

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

Why, he wailed into his pillow, why did Vortex have to do that?!

 

Why did he want to touch First Aid the same way he touched him?

 

Why? Why? WHY?!

 

The youngling could only ask the questions, having them snap and snarl through his helm in never ending loops, gasping and sobbing as he clutched tighter to his pillow. No matter how much he cried or questioned, he knew he would never get the answers he needed, and that tore even deeper at his tender spark.

 

So he cried, harder and faster, his poor frame shaking with his agony.

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

When his brothers came upstairs, it was to find Fireflight face first in his pillow, wings and servos trembling as he pressed further into the bedsheets; wailing at the top of his intakes. They had never seen the phantom jet this distraught before and it almost scared them. Skydive, being the oldest, stepped into the room, slowly approaching the berth.

 

“Fireflight.....,” he called gently, “Fireflight, what's happened?”

 

Keening sobs met his audios.

 

“Fireflight,” Skydive tried again. Air Raid and Slingshot tip-toed up behind him, crowding uncertainly. “Please, tell me what's wrong.”

 

The falcon jet gently stroked the other's wings, trying to calm him down and get the youngest sibling to talk to him. At his gentle touch though, Fireflight flinched, throwing himself up from the bed. “H-he..... he,” he choked. He swallowed sharply, folding forwards as a sob ripped through his chassis. Tears coated his cheekplates thickly, and were still falling, his lip components curled with his misery. “H-he do-doesn't w-want me!”

 

The confession shocked the other three into silence.

 

“He, h-he.... I-i-i-i w-was, was on-only a rep-placment! H-he wanted tha-that other 'b-bot- he di-didn't re-really like mmmm-me at a-all!!”

 

“O-oh.... Fireflight,” Skydive sighed sympathetically. He reach forward to try and wrap his baby brother into a hug, only to have the phantom jet slap his servos away, backing into the wall.

 

“Leave me alone!,” Fireflight shrieked, grabbing his pillow and squeezing it to his chestplates. He let out a broken whimper, burying his face again in the damp material; rocking as he continued to weep. Little mumbles, of 'unwanted' and 'fakes', came through, clutching hard at his brothers' sparks.

 

Shakily, Skydive rose to his pedes, ushering the other two out of the room. “Why didn't you do something?!,” Slingshot growled as soon as the falcon jet had shut the door.

 

“Slingshot!,” Air Raid hissed, grabbing hold of the shorter mech's arm.

 

“No, I want to know why this slagger didn't bother to do something! Fireflight is our brother -we're supposed to be helping him! But you made us leave!”

 

Skydive stared at Slingshot sadly, more hurt than angry at his brother's accusation. “What can we do, Slingshot? Fireflight obviously doesn't want our help or our comfort..... not right now,” he explained. Pausing, Skydive took a moment to glance back at the closed door. “We'll..... w-we'll have to tell mom and dad when they come back. But for now, there's nothing that can be done. Hopefully, Fireflight will be willing to tell us more soon.”

 

Resignedly, the eldest flyer started down the stairs. Slingshot cursed angrily, storming off into his own room. Air Raid, torn, stood there silently, not knowing what to do or where to go.

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

The air was strangely dark in the Combaticon household.

 

“Hey, I'm home,” Swindle called, stepping into the room. He turned into the living room, noticing the odd silence. “Ummm....,” he started, glancing at his sire sitting in his arm chair, working his way from brother to brother until he saw Vortex sitting sunken in the middle of the couch. “What's going on guys?”

 

“That is what we're trying to figure out,” Onslaught gruffed. He had his fingers bridged before his face seriously, his attention fixed wholly on the helicopter. “Your brother here has been quiet since my return home. He refuses to say what's wrong.”

 

“Not as if it would do him much good anyways,” Blast Off commented snidely from where he stood, leaning against the wall.

 

Brawl was quiet. Swindle shuttered his optics idly, casting Vortex another worried glance. “Okay then. So..... anyone see Fireflight today? I thought I saw the kid at the store earlier and....” The tan mech cut himself off, noticing how his brother seemed to sink further into his seat, now full-out glaring at the floor. Everyone else noticed the reaction too, and leapt.

 

“So this concerns that Autobot, huh? Let me guess,” Onslaught said, leaning back into his seat. Now that he knew what the source of the problem was, he was more at ease. “You finally managed to scare him off, didn't you?”

 

“Not quite,” Blast Off piped up again. “Fireflight ran as soon as he saw Vortex making a move on First Aid.”

 

“Ha! So you ended up cheating on him after all,” Swindle chortled. “Serves you right and- wait! WHAT?! You were making moves on MY FIRST AID?! YOU FRAGGER!!”

 

Brawl hurriedly grabbed hold of his younger brother before the entrepreneur could throw himself at the unresponsive helicopter. “C'mon Swin,” the tank said, speaking softly for once. “It's not worth it. You know how 'Tex is like. 'Sides, First Aid would never go for a mech like him and you'd only get beaten up for no reason.”

 

The jeep still cursed and kicked, trying to claw out of Brawl's hold and for the grey mech. Sighing, Onslaught sent his son a pointed look, to which the tank responded, carrying his yelling brother out of the living room and outside. Once it was quiet again, the truck turned to Vortex. “Well, your little hunt lasted longer than I had expected. So he's gone.... you'll find someone else,” he said, in a pseudo-comforting manner. “It's not like you weren't going to toss him to the curb anyways as soon as you were finished with him.”

 

His piece said, Onslaught pushed himself to his pedes, heading for the kitchen and a strong drink. Leaving only Blast Off. The shuttle remained as he was for a few kliks, before he sighed exasperatedly, walking straight for Vortex.

 

“If.....,” the grey Decepticon growled as the eldest mech stopped right in front of him, “You're going to offer some sort of 'comfort' as well, I'm going to have to ask you to shove it up your aft.”

 

“Comfort would imply that you were deserving of it,” Blast Off drawled. “But we both know that's not the case. You were using Fireflight, interested only in your next frag. You've always been like that. Are you so surprised then that everybody believes you were going to just dump him once you'd finished playing with the foolish Autobot?”

 

Silence met his inquiry.

 

Shaking his helm, Blast Off folded his arms across his chestplates. “It seems the only one surprised is you.... And for what reason, I'm not sure. Somehow I doubt it's because you actually have feelings for the youngling.”

 

Vortex glared up at him, his fingers digging into the couch tensely. Shrugging nonchalantly, the shuttle turned away, ready to return to his room and the lengthy classic waiting for him. “Whatever the case may be, it won't matter really. After this, you'll be lucky to see that Autobot out on the street, let alone talk to him.”

 

The helicopter watched his brother leave silently, unable to think of an appropriate response.


	7. Regrets

It had been days since he had last seen Fireflight.

 

Days spent pacing his room angrily; longer nights pounding whatever 'bot he could get his servos on, and still not being satisfied at the end of it. His brothers seemed utterly fed up with his behaviour. Swindle was pissed at him for trying to frag First Aid, and both mechs had taken to avidly avoiding the house and him because of it. Brawl kept muttering on about missing the youngling's presence and never having the chance to hug him, while Blast Off told him to keep his “pathetic, self-pitying atmosphere away from me and my books.”

 

His sire, Onslaught, seemed intent on drinking himself under the table every night since the incident.

 

It was at this point that Vortex was forced to analyze himself and think..... maybe, just maybe..... he had made a mistake.

 

And possibly, he just might have developed..... feelings.... for Fireflight, after all.

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

Silverbolt slammed the plates into the sink filled with sudsy water, grabbing hold of the sponge with an infuriated growl. At the sound, Trailbreaker looked up from his newspaper, sitting at the small kitchen table with a steaming mug of oil to keep him company. “What's wrong, love?,” he asked, in that low, gentle tone he always spoke with.

 

“What's wrong?,” the white Autobot almost hissed. “What's wrong is that my lil' sparkling is upstairs, still crying over the mech that had the audacity to break his spark -and I wasn't even aware of the fact that Fireflight was seeing anyone, let alone crushing on a 'bot!! And now it's too late for me to help!”

 

Seeing how angry Silverbolt was, Trailbreaker got to his pedes, large fingers gently massaging the trembling wings. “Come now, honey,” the camper truck soothed. “I don't think any of us were expecting Fireflight to date anybot, let alone keep it a secret from us, but that doesn't mean it's too late. Our sparkling is still hurting inside and he needs his momma to hold and comfort him.”

 

The concord's lower lip component trembled a little, despite how strong he tried to appear. “But.... h-he doesn't want my comfort. He wants nothing to d-do with m-me!” It was really tearing him up inside, knowing how much he longed to help his baby, and yet having the phantom jet refuse him so violently. He understood it was because Fireflight was hurting inside, but that didn't make it any less painful for him either.

 

Trailbreaker didn't know what else to say to his mate. He continued to stroke his wings placatingly, before gently easing him away from the sink and into a chair. “Here, let me do the dishes, 'Bolt,” he requested. “I'll take care of them while you relax for a moment. You just need some time to calm down, same as Fireflight. When he's grieved for some time, he'll tell us all about what happened and how we can help.”

 

Though the words were smart, Silverbolt didn't exactly care to hear them. He frowned at he camper truck for a moment, but only a kind smile shined back at him, and the white mech was forced to relent. Sighing softly, he clasped his servos atop of the table, staring at the fridge. Pictures, only a few weeks old, decorated its face; drawn by Fireflight's own servo and depicting all sorts of happy things such as petro rabbits, flowers and energon goodies. “I just want to hug my baby.....,” he whispered sadly.

 

The grey mech leaned in, kissing him softly. “I know,” Trailbreaker said in empathy. “I know.”

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

“ _Hey, Vortex.....”_

 

The voice stirred his attentions, even in his haze of indifference. He recalled the way blue optics glimmered, Fireflight turning his helm to look back at the larger mech. Fingers were pointing to the store shop window, where toys and dolls seemed to glow in the special lighting.

 

“ _Aren't they beautiful?”_

 

Honestly, he hadn't thought so. At the time, he was more concerned about getting the youngling into a private corner and molesting the slag out of him. He cared more about his moans and mewls then, rather than the things he actually said. Not that the Autobot had noticed, of course. He had simply pressed his servos to the glass, staring into the window with an undefinable joy.

 

“ _Each one is made ever so preciously, waiting until the moment when they are picked for that special mech or femme. Do you wonder if they get sad when they sit for so long, without a sparkling to call their own?”_

 

What an odd question..... Toys were toys. Who cared who played with them? But Fireflight was enraptured with them, his smile soft and serene as he continued to gaze at the various items. He had been strangely annoyed with the expression.

 

“ _I bet they do. I know I would. Stuck on a shelf all that time, until someone finally picks them. I'd pick them all if I could, and give each of them my love equally. So that they'd never feel sad or lonely again..... Oh, hey! Look, a juggler!”_

 

Sparklings laughing ripped Vortex from his thoughts; annoyed, the helicopter glared in their direction, restraining himself from getting up and bashing their little helms in together. It almost felt like they were mocking him..... in the worse case, it reminded him too much of Fireflight.

 

Why had he come to the park again?

 

Oh yeah..... he was trying to escape the suffering atmosphere of his own home at the moment, fed up with Brawl's whimpering and his sire's ire with him. That's why he had even bothered to come outside, feeling that a walk might do him some good. Or maybe find him someone to frag to pass the time. Wandering into the nearest park hadn't exactly been part of his plan, but then again, neither had thinking about Fireflight been on his list of things to do this orn.

 

He shouldn't have been thinking about the little jet at all....

 

Vortex growled irritably, annoyed that his thoughts were still lingering on the Autobot. So he'd “dumped him”, so what? He should have already moved on by now, getting himself a new toy to play with. And yet.... he couldn't.

 

The helicopter found it physically impossible to find someone else. It was already a struggle just to frag some other 'bot, and even then, he never really enjoyed himself. His thoughts were too wrapped up in Fireflight and he was loathe to admit that he was actually missing the flyer.

 

....he hadn't even broken his final seal yet.....

 

Not that that should really be the focal point here, but the fact was he was still regretting that in favour of thinking about..... everything else.

 

Vortex grumbled to himself angrily. So this was how he worked on not thinking about Fireflight? By thinking about him even more? Slaggit, he needed a drink. A good, stiff drink. Getting to his pedes, the Decepticon began to meander off aimlessly, his optics searching for any bar open and serving at this time of the orn. He knew come evening he'd be lucky if he could still recall his own name.

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

After a few days, he found that the tears stopped flowing.

 

“....'Flight?”

 

But that didn't mean the pain had gone away. Indeed, it felt even worse now.

 

“Fireflight?” Air Raid peeked around the door anxiously, stepping into the room slowly. His brother did not respond to his call, lying on the berth half-curled into a ball like he had been for the past few days. Seeing as he yet to receive a negative response, the older mech continued into the room, approaching the berth slowly.

 

“Fireflight..... are you hungry?,” the eagle jet hesitantly asked, crouching just within the other's view. He smiled, forcibly, because the sight of those emotionless optics staring unseeingly back at him could make any mech cry. “Well, I, uh..... I got you some of your favourite treats. I-if.... you want them.”

 

Air Raid pulled the bag of rust sticks out of subspace, placing them on the berth between himself and his brother fearfully. He didn't know if the phantom jet would accept the gift or throw it back in his face. It was amazing that Fireflight even recognized the offering. Still, he made no move to take or give them back.

 

Feeling as if he had over stayed his welcome, the older Autobot got to his pedes, inching for the door. He tried his hardest not to glance over his shoulder plating as he went. He did stop though at the hesitant call of his name.

 

“...A-ar-Ra....?”

 

Intakes hitching, Air Raid turned to face Fireflight, seeing the youngling pushing himself weakly up off the berth. Dim optics were glittering again with tears as he looked pleadingly at his elder brother. Even if Fireflight hadn't used his nickname from their sparkling days, the arms held out hesitantly for him would have been enough to draw the eagle jet's full attention.

 

“P-please.....?”

 

Nothing more needed to be said. Air Raid rushed back to his brother's side, wrapping Fireflight up in a tight hug. Comforting the other flyer as he again began to cry.

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

It had been pure chance on his part that he had seen the Autobot on the street.

 

Even over-energized, Vortex was a master stalker, and he tailed after the white and red mech all the way through the streets and alleys. He wasn't entirely sure which of Fireflight's brother this one was, but it didn't matter. He had mentioned the phantom jet on his comm link and even had a bag of treats for the flyer -proof enough that he knew the youngling intimately. At first, the helicopter thought to interrogate the Autobot into telling him Fireflight's status, but his sly processor settled on a different plan of action. One that he was thankful for following now, as it led him all the way to the jet's home.

 

Hanging back, Vortex watched as the one he had just been stalking entered into the large, white home; shutting the door behind him as he went. It seemed unlikely that the eagle jet had noticed himself being tailed, but the grey mech waited a few kliks more before coming out of his shadowy corner and approaching the house. All was silent as he crept across the lawn.

 

With a well-practised ease, he glanced into each window, scanning the rooms within quickly for any sign of his flyer. On the ground floor, he saw nobody but Fireflight's two creators. The youngling, he suspected then, must have been upstairs. Vortex pulled back, studying the house. There were at least eight different windows for the second level, most of which were dark. If he had to guess which room Fireflight might have been in, it'd probably be one with a light on. Just as he started to plan which window he would climb to first, a light on the far right of the house turned on.

 

Beneath his mask, Vortex grinned, knowing that was the room he wanted.

 

Quickly, the helicopter scaled the wall, swinging himself up onto the patio's small roof silently, and tip-toeing in a crouch for his selected window. He was practically grinning in delight as he peeked over the window sill.... a grin that was quick to fall from his faceplates again when he saw the scene within.

 

Irrational jealousy tore through him, making him hiss in disgust and hatred. The Autobot he had followed to Fireflight's home was currently stretched across a berth, his arms wrapped tightly around the phantom jet. The Decepticon could see his lip components move softly, whispering something to the other, but Fireflight only shook his helm at the unknown words, clutching tighter to his brother. The older flyer sighed sympathetically, kissing the youngling's crown; servos massaging shivering wings as tears began to pour again from the smaller one's optics.

 

Fireflight was his!, a voice growled within him. He should be the only one holding the Autobot, touching his wings and kissing him. Not that other jet, and certainly none of Fireflight's family either.

 

They didn't deserve to!

 

But....

 

He didn't either.

 

Vortex dropped down to the tiles, feeling his fuel tanks twist painfully with his sudden shock. He had no idea where that last thought had come from, nor did he care to know. He shook his helm viciously, trying to shake the words off, but they were already digging in deep; rooting into his processor firmly. Again, he felt ready to purge, and the helicopter was decidedly not pleased with this variation of pain.

 

This is all your fault, the voice pointed out snidely. You are the one that made him cry; made him run.

 

He hesitated on one more peek over the sill -seeing Fireflight still caged in comforting arms as he wept- before Vortex turned away completely, slipping down off the roof and to the ground below. He was almost fleeing himself as he tore back down the lamp-lit streets, eager for another drink -anything that would erase the sight of the flyer crying and the unwelcome twisting of his fuel tanks from his processor.


	8. Out on a Limb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sticky; spike n' valve

Vortex knew it was pointless, but he couldn't stay away.

 

Not now; not when Fireflight had been his, slaggit, and he still couldn't get the Autobot off of his processor. Was it so wrong then? To keep coming back here, every night, needing to catch even the smallest glimpse of the jet, despite how twisted he felt inside at the sight of the youngling crying still?

 

He wondered how much school Fireflight must have missed during the duration of the past couple weeks. It didn't seem likely that he even went to school still, not with how upset he appeared.

 

Of course, he was only guessing. The helicopter couldn't be sure of anything, stuck behind the glass and a tree branch's length away from the flyer's berthroom. Oh, how close the youngling was to him.... and yet, the Decepticon couldn't cross that small distance and make the other mech his again. Because he just knew if he got his servos on Fireflight, he would rape the little jet, no matter the Autobot's say. He still wanted Fireflight, madly so, and his lust was being driven into a frenzy the longer he was denied contact with the white mech.

 

....he didn't think he could stand to make the flyer upset anymore....

 

Burying those unwanted things again, Vortex settled in for a long night; poised behind the curtain of leaves, his optics fixed dead ahead to the jet he could see curled up weakly on his berth.

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

His family came and went.....

 

Sometimes he clutched to them, sometimes he didn't. Mostly, he wanted to be alone.

 

“V....vor....tex...”

 

Or so he told himself.

 

Fireflight choked as his chassis was wracked again with more sobs, folding into himself; pillow clenched to his chestplates tightly as he pressed his face into the damp material. He had thought the tears were gone, but they weren't, and when they came back, it was with a vengeance. It felt like his cheekplates would never dry. He cried for a little longer, spouting confused and disjointed words in his pain.

 

He still didn't understand why the Decepticon had did that.

 

He.... he had really thought that Vortex liked him. Naive he might be, but he wasn't stupid either! Fireflight knew stuff, he did, and he came to realize too late how much he loved the helicopter. But of course, that meant nothing whatsoever, because Vortex had never really wanted or liked him. He only wanted First Aid; the jet had the misfortune of being slightly similar to the older Autobot.

 

“....n-not..... not him..... I-i'm mmm.....m-me....”

 

So why then? Why pretend?

 

That..... that bit hurt the most. Maybe if he had known straight from the beginning, this whole thing wouldn't feel so much like a betrayal.

 

“....w-why...,” he croaked, gasping into the pillow, “....w-why d-did yo-you...... n-not want mmmm-me....?”

 

It felt like his little spark was being shredded into nothingness. Choking on another stream of whimpers and tears, Fireflight shifted, wanting to be held but at the same time not. The only arms he could think of were thicker, grey ones..... but those were out of reach, and would never hold him again anyhow.

 

He just needed to stop thinking about all of this altogether.

 

If only he could muster some kind of hatred toward the Decepticon. Maybe it would make things easier.

 

“I.....,” the youngling hiccupped, “I....m-miss you..... Vo-vortex......”

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

He'd spent the last two days in that tree. Vortex didn't know how he could have bore it, what with the rain the night before and not having anything on him to eat other than the few energon goodies he still had saved in subspace, but he did. The helicopter supposed it helped that at the moment his brother and sire were having a huge row, which would only turn into physical assault if Vortex showed his face around the house. Really, Swindle could be so sensitive sometimes.

 

You'd think he would have gotten over the grey mech making a move on First Aid already. Like, hello, this was Vortex after all.

 

But whatever, not that he cared anymore. Indeed, the Decepticon at the moment had other things on his processor, such as the growing urge to talk to Fireflight. He'd sat too long outside the flyer's window, watching him from a short distance, that he felt he had to do something -initiate some sort of contact- or else be driven mad by the conflicting voices in his helm. But how.....

 

As it was, one of the other Autobots was never far from Fireflight, and the window always stayed shut to him. He'd never get his chance if both lanes remained closed to him. Grumbling, Vortex pressed further into his worn down seat in the bark, finding the wetness in his joints and the biting sting of wood against his rotor blades mere annoyances this orn. Good thing he didn't bend to pressure easily.

 

With a quiet sigh, Vortex resigned himself to a long and dreary night.

 

Wait? What was this?

 

The helicopter straightened up on his branch, pulling some of the leaves out of his way.

 

“C'mon boys. Your mom needs to go to the store and we still need to pick up the rest of Skydive's paperwork for the university.” Another grey mech, bulkier than Vortex and definitely a ground-pounder, walked out of the door, trailed after by a white mech that the Decepticon had noted before was Fireflight's carrier.

 

Another mech came through the door, this one calmer and definitely younger, a datapad held under one arm. Shouting was not far behind him; out of the house burst two more flyers, one chasing after the other, spitting curses and fists curled, ready to brawl. The sire was quick to grab hold of the smallest mech though, holding him back from starting his fight with his brother. Almost the entire family.... but even Vortex was wondering about the final addition.

 

It was only when he saw the four start to walk away from the house that he realized Fireflight would not be joining them. The helicopter almost couldn't believe his luck. Waiting until the others were long out of sight, Vortex eagerly twisted back to Fireflight's window, rotors twitching in excitement. Finally, he had the chance he had been waiting for!

 

Just when he was getting ready to pounce, the window before him started to open; a sad, sniffling jet crawling up to the sill and peering out of it forlornly. He was still clutching that worn pillow of his, rubbing it against his cheekplate every once in a while.

 

For an astrosecond, Vortex hesitated.

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

It was cold tonight. Fireflight, feeling as if he was about to suffocate, forced himself into moving; tired arms shaking as he put all his strength into pushing open his window. Night air buffeted against his face lightly, drying the tears that still hung in his optics. Sniffling, the flyer rested his chin on his folded servos, gazing down on the street below. No one was out, but across the road, he could see lights on in the other homes; silhouettes of happy people living their lives. Unaware of him or his pain.

 

Quickly, the Autobot wiped at his optics.

 

“Star light, star bright....,” he started hoarsely, reciting the nursery rhyme softly. He tightened his grip on the pillow he held.

 

“First star I see tonight,” Fireflight continued, gaze lifting to the heavens above. Millions upon millions of stars sparkled for his viewing, each more vibrant than the last. How sad was it that their light actually hurt him to look at.

 

“I-i wish.... I wish I m-may, I wish I might....”

 

Everything, even the stars, reminded him of Vortex. And painfully so.

 

Fireflight paused, helm bowing as sorrow overcame him again. “I-i wish....,” he choked, trying his hardest not to sob. “I-i-i wish.... I w-wish I n-never m-met Vo-vortex. I w-wish I-i'd ne-never bumped i-into him, b-because then, th-then I-i-i....I-i w-wouldn't b-be so sad, a-and, and m-my sp-spark wouldn't..... w-wouldn't h-hurt so m-much!”

 

The jet buried his face into his arms, muffling the cries that were rapidly slipping out of his vocalizer. “I-i d-don't wa-want to th-think about h-him a-an-anymmmm-more!,” he sobbed, “I-i do-don't want t-to mmm-miss him a-at all!”

 

“But....I miss you, snowflake.”

 

Trembling, Fireflight shot up, wide, frightened, and slightly hopeful optics looking straight ahead to the Decepticon that was squatting on the branch before him. Vortex canted his helm to the side a little at the disbelieving stare he was receiving; lifting a servo and holding it out for the jet to take. For a moment, Fireflight actually hesitated, his own servo lifting into the air. He stopped himself before he could take the helicopter's servo, realizing exactly what it was he was just about to do.

 

Overcome with complete horror now, Fireflight quickly scrambled back on his berth and into the safety of his room.

 

“Now, now Fireflight...,” Vortex said in a gentle, crooning tone; leaping forward and grabbing hold of the window before the Autobot could shut it again. Fluidly, he slipped into the room and onto the berth, upset to see the flyer back away from him further. “Please, don't run away.”

 

“Y-you.... y-you sh-shouldn't be here!,” the white mech cried, still shuffling backwards. He didn't see the edge of the berth until he'd already toppled over it, falling to the floor on his wings. A small hiss of pain escaped him as he felt the delicate plating fold under him uncomfortably; easing himself up slowly. Larger servos were lifting him up the rest of the way, touching his wings gently. Gasping at a pinch that was definitely not of the friendly variety, Fireflight struggled to get out of Vortex's hold.

 

“L-let me go!”

 

“Oh, come now, snowflake. Didn't you just say you were missing me?”

 

“I-i-i, I d-don't care!,” Fireflight shouted. He writhed wildly, his flailing pedes landing a lucky hit on Vortex's hip. The helicopter grunted at the blow, his grip loosening just enough for the youngling to slip out of it. Fireflight managed to get half-way to the door, before he was grabbed again; spun around and thrown onto the berth, a heavy weight sliding over him and pinning him down. “Let me go! Let me go right now! P-please!!”

 

Vortex straddled the Autobot, watching him twist and cry beneath him frightfully, his bucking forcing him to grind upwards into the other's codpiece. “C-careful now,” the grey mech husked, trying to keep from grinding back into that teasing touch. “Stop w-wriggling, snowflake. I-i only came to talk. Don't f-force me into doing something e-else.”

 

“L-like what?!,” the jet spat, half in terror, half in anger.

 

The helicopter merely canted his helm at the unexpected temper in his flyer, pushing Fireflight's thighs open wider and grinding down hard into the white youngling's codpiece. Fireflight gasped at the sudden pressure, arching again in an entirely different manner as his helm tossed backwards in pleasure. “Like that,” Vortex purred, his visor flaring brightly with his lust. He leaned down to the Autobot's limp chassis, cycling hot intakes over the trembling plating. “Oh, my beautiful, beautiful lil' jet.....”

 

“L-lies....,” Fireflight choked, his common sense coming back to him. Despite how much he wanted to get free, he refrained from wriggling further, not wanting to give the Decepticon a chance to touch him anymore. He glared up at the other mech though, coolant glazed across his optics hotly. “Y-you do-don't think I-i'm pretty. Y-you just like the c-colour of m-my plating, because i-it's like his!”

 

It didn't take a genius to figure out what the jet was talking about. “No, snowflake....,” he tried to assure, retracting his mask and leaning in to the flyer again. “No, that was a misunderstanding....”

 

The youngling was having none of it though. He thrashed wildly as he saw Vortex close in, tears splashing down his cheekplates thickly. “Liar! Liar!,” he shrieked. “You don't want me, you never did! Get off! Get off! Off, off, OFF!!”

 

The words were like a jagged blade twisting through his fuel tanks. The helicopter let Fireflight scream as much as he wanted, but did not pull away. He couldn't afford to. Eventually, the jet couldn't scream anymore and only broke down crying again, crumbling weakly in the Decepticon's grasp. “P-please.... j-just, just leave mmm-me al-alone....,” Fireflight croaked. “P-pleeease...”

 

“But....I don't want to,” Vortex whispered in reply, lip components brushing the Autobot's cheekplate. The jet trembled at the touch, sobbing loudly. “Don't cry, little one. I don't want to see you cry anymore.... I only wanted to.... apologize. I didn't mean to hurt you like I did and for that I'm sorry. I didn't think that I would be so sad when you were no longer around.”

 

Fireflight shook his helm though in denial of what the larger mech was saying. “Y-you...,” he sniffled, choking up again. “Y-you think j-just 'ca-cause I'm y-young t-that I'm st-stupid. B-but, I'm n-not! I-i-i know I-i can b-be o-oblivious a-at times, but I-i-i can s-see wh-when I'm n-not the on-only one. W-why should y-you w-want mmmm-me then?! Y-you can h-have Fi-first Aid! H-he's what y-you w-want, i-isn't he?!”

 

“No.... no, no he isn't.”

 

The quiet confession tore through Fireflight's tears, forcing the Autobot into silence. Hesitantly, he unshuttered his optics, lifting them to look at Vortex. The helicopter did not try to move in or otherwise make a move on the youngling, but just kept staring down on him; lip components pressed into a neutral line and visor somewhat dim. “I thought,” the grey mech continued softly, “I did, actually, for a time want him. Slag, he's a nice bit of aft. I'm sorry to say, and I was...jealous.... I suppose when Swindle got him instead of me. When I bumped into you, I was glad for the distraction. Yes, I still wanted First Aid at the time, but....”

 

“But he's not what I want anymore. Fireflight, you're not a replacement. Not anymore. Who else will tell me all about the snowflakes, or get sad when they melt in their servos? Who else is going to take me to all the toy stores and talk about the dolls' loneliness? Who else will sing 'twinkle, twinkle, little star' or eat a whole tub of energon-cream until your fuel tanks feel ill?”

 

“Y-you.....,” the youngling shuttered his optics uncertainly. “Y-you remember a-all th-that.....?”

 

Finally, a grin slowly worked its way to Vortex's face. “Of course, snowflake,” he purred, bending down and brushing a chaste kiss on the other's lip components. “I remember everything I've ever learned about you. My precious, precious Fireflight....”

 

Fireflight didn't protest when the helicopter slid his arms under his wings, pressing him tightly to the other's chestplates. He even wrapped his arms around the Decepticon's shoulders after a moment of hesitation, hugging Vortex back tightly. “P-please.... d-don't,” he hiccupped into the older mech's neck cables. “D-don't l-leave....”

 

“Oh no, Fireflight,” the other hummed into his audios. “No, I never will.”

 

The youngling sniffled a little, still nuzzling the helicopter's neck cables, when he felt those big servos dip lower down his wings. One stroke his nose cone, just behind his helm, while the other cupped under his tail fins; groping his aft. It was hard not to moan, as he felt heat slither across his circuitry, brought on by Vortex's personal touch.

 

“Snowflake.....,” he distantly heard the Decepticon murmur into his audio. Fireflight gasped, mewling a little as Vortex shifted , slowly grinding down into him again. “Oh, my lil' snowflake..... I want you _so bad_. Your scent -it's driving me mad. I want to have you; _need_ to be inside of you.”

 

The last bit was said with the slightest bit of hesitation, as if the helicopter was seeking his permission first before going any further. Fireflight thought his spark might burst at the implications, because, coming from a mech who could easily overpower him, it meant that Vortex did care about him, even if he didn't show it in the usual fashion. And, of course, the constant pawing was starting to make him boil inside; just enough that the youngling wanted desperately to give the Decepticon what he asked for.

 

“O...o-okay....”

 

When the tiny whisper of consent was mumbled against his shoulder plating, Vortex did the only thing that anyone in his situation could really do -he drew back just enough so that he could stare at the flyer in shock. A shy pair of optics lifted to look up at him, Fireflight slowly nodding his helm to the silent inquiry. “Y-yes....y-you can....”

 

Engines rumbling in lustful mirth, Vortex lowered himself down to the Autobot, fingers stroking at the gorgeous, white plating and lip components pressing kisses to that thin neck. “It'll hurt though,” he remarked, trying not to salivate as he reached down, cupping his servo between Fireflight's thighs. His codpiece was hot against his palm, and probably slicked within. “Your valve is still sealed. I'll have to wear it down before I can take you.”

 

“N-no.... just, just g-go ahead,” Fireflight replied, squirming a little as the Decepticon continued to pet his sensitive plating. “I-i'll be okay.”

 

Again, Vortex was stunned. “Are.... are you certain?,” he asked the youngling. “Breaking a seal can be quite painful, and I'm not exactly small.”

 

The jet nodded his helm jerkily, retracting his codpiece; baring himself completely to the helicopter. He blushed deeply at the roar of cooling fans he heard kick on with the grey mech, shuttering his optics and impatiently waiting for Vortex to make the next move. The Decepticon was almost stunned into immobility. His little snowflake was being so brave and generous to him.... How could he have thought for an astrosecond of tossing this cutie to the side? Well, he had him now, and this was going to be a victory that Vortex would come to savour for many cycles ahead.

 

Gently, afraid that the youngling might suddenly change his mind, the grey mech grabbed Fireflight's legs; retracting his own codpiece, spike pressurizing and lining up with the pink seal that heralded the Autobot's valve. “Now.... I'll enter on three, okay?,” he said, winding the jet's legs around his waist comfortably. Next he adjusted Fireflight's grip on his plating, leading the flyer to wrap his servos behind the Decepticon's back. “If it's too much for you, we'll stop.”

 

He really hoped it wouldn't be too much.

 

“One.....”

 

Still afraid, and more than self-conscious, Fireflight could only nod his helm vigorously at the kindly given words; his fingers inching and winding around a rotor blade each. He barely had the chance to cycle a nervous intake, before Vortex was suddenly lunging forward, breaking his seal and driving into his virgin valve with one vicious strike. Pain erupted across his sensory net, ripping a scream from the Autobot's vocalizer. It was hard for him not to cry again, face pressed into Vortex's shoulder plating, gnawing his bottom lip component down harshly as he tried to swallow back his tears. He didn't want the helicopter to stop. If he stopped, he might leave....

 

The scream of agony he drew from Fireflight rang painfully in his audios, twisting in his spark, but the grey mech was almost incapable of thinking about that. When he had thrust into the youngling, he'd broken his seal; the flyer in response had yanked roughly on his rotor blades, almost enough to dislodge them from their joints. The resulting burn felt good, crackling across his sensory net alongside of the sweet, molten walls clenching around his hungry spike tightly, slicking his thick cable with warm fluids.

 

“Mmm....yes,” he hissed, ducking in and nudging his way under the Autobot's chin. Vortex let his servos wander for a moment before grasping those little hips tightly, his mouth and glossa attacking Fireflight's upper chassis, turning pained whimpers and sniffles into starting moans and mewls of pleasure. “That's it, snowflake..... J-just let yourself go; scratch and tug as much as you like. Let me fill your pretty valve with my transfluids.”

 

Quickly, the helicopter broke out into a frenzied pace, sending Fireflight wailing as his aching valve was stretched further. The white mech bounced back and forth on the berth, only the harsh grip Vortex had on his hips and the crushing one he had on the other's rotors kept him from getting very far from that spike. Gasping in bliss, the jet arched and writhed, spitting disjointed pleas for more. More thrusting, more touching, more bites. Each beg reached Vortex's audios, sounding so sweet in their frantic, high-pitched frequency and he quickened his tempo; wanting to pound his essence into every inch of Fireflight's frame, fizzle out his vocalizer with the youngling's screaming, mark his ownership into the very Autobot.

 

“Yes.....,” he growled deliriously along the heated plating of Fireflight's chestplates. He felt the flyer overload, but continued his mad thrust, having yet to reach his own peak yet. “Yes.... _mine. All_ mine. _My sweet, little Fireflight._ ”

 

Vortex pulled up, just at the moment of his overload, rotor blades flaring out in his passion. “F-fireflight!,” he hissed to the air, snapping his hips tight along the jet's aft; transfluids erupting from his spike and flooding the Autobot's passage. He heard the youngling weakly keen, shifting against the uncomfortable stiffness of the Decepticon's spike in his sore valve and hot liquids coating his sensor nodes for the first time. White fingers were still scratching at his chassis; the evidence of Fireflight's own overload smeared across the lower half of his stomach plating, while a look of dazed confusion covered the other's face.

 

The sight aroused the helicopter all over again.

 

“V-vortex......?,” Fireflight moaned as the Decepticon shifted, pressing closer to his shivering frame, hips slowly moving again. Preparing for another round.

 

“Yes, snowflake?,” the psychopath purred against his neck cables, nipping and suckling on them leisurely.

 

The youngling swallowed sharply, whimpering at the pleasant assault. “W-why, why a-are......”

 

“Why are we continuing?” A quick nod of confirmation. “Because, Fireflight. I've waited so long to have you, my precious snowflake. I just have to fill you as many times as possible. I need to feel you under me, screaming and crying as I bring you to overload again.... and again.... and again.....” Vortex chuckled, rolling hips forward quickly. He relished the moan he got in response, those lovely fingers digging into his seams in blissful pain. “You're all mine, and mine alone.”

 

Fireflight only shivered again, mumbling something indistinguishable along his shoulder plating; hugging the Decepticon to him tightly. Vortex spared a moment to press a kiss to the jet's lip components, before getting on with his mission of fragging his flyer into stasis.

 

He had to catch up on lost time, after all.


	9. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sticky; spike n' valve, meeting the family

If he was going to die right then and there, Vortex could almost say he would die happily.

 

“V-vortex....maybe, w-we shouldn't -I mean.....” Fireflight squirmed in his hold, trying to swallow back his moans as the Decepticon continued to grope his frame, pressing the youngling onto the bedroom floor. The towel between them was hardly a barrier, and the Autobot knew this.

 

The grey mech hummed in reply, mask pulled back to place kisses along the other's neck cables. “Why not, snowflake? I've got the energy; how about you?”

 

The jet gasped, servos slipping in between their grinding frames and weakly pushing on the other's chestplates. “B-but,” he moaned, arching at a pleasurable nip. “W-we, we've been, umm....”

 

“Fragging?,” Vortex helpfully supplied. A quick nod and a mewl met his inquiry.

 

“For a w-while, a-and, w-we.... we just h-had, aah, a sh-shower too,” Fireflight protested. “W-w can't get dirty y-yet!”

 

That was true. The Decepticon had been pounding his cutie's aft for the past couple hours, all the way from the bedroom and to the bathroom, where he'd stuffed the Autobot full and then some. The scratches all over his chassis and rotor blades stung, but in a way Vortex liked best. It told him that he'd done a good job 'facing his little jet. He would wear these miniature wounds as badges of honour. It hadn't been too long now since he had Fireflight pinned to the tiled wall, ramming his spike into that virgin valve -white fingers scrabbling over the slicked surface as the flyer screamed to the ceiling above- but he just couldn't resist getting in and under that lovely plating again.

 

Resting could come later.

 

“C'mon, snowflake,” Vortex husked, grinding harder against his complacent partner. He smirked at the shiver Fireflight gave, whimpering in need as his legs spread wider. “Don't you want to connect with me, though? Don't you want me to fill your little valve again? Wouldn't you like to be all warm and sticky inside with my transfluids?”

 

Fireflight was crumbling fast. “V-vortex....,” he whispered, fingers digging deep into the Decepticon's seams, bringing a hungry groan from his vocalizer. The sound rattled the flyer's very last restraint; without further prompting, he wrapped his legs snugly around the helicopter's waist, codpiece retracting with an audible click. “P-please, Vo-vortex....”

 

“Oh, snowflake,” the grey mech purred, pulling back. He wanted to see his snowflake's expression when he rammed into that tight passage for the several time that evening. “You're going to feel so go-”

 

“FIREFLIGHT! WE'RE HOME!”

 

_Oh slag...._

 

Vortex froze, as if he'd just been knocked unconscious, looking back into the equally surprised face of Fireflight. He'd been so wrapped up in taking the jet, that he'd forgotten the family had only gone out for a short while. Which had apparently ended just now.

 

In a flash, the helicopter was springing to his pedes and rushing for the window.

 

“V-vortex?!” Small servos were grabbing hold of his rotors and with a strength that Vortex would never imagine the Autobot having, Fireflight yanked him back; the bigger mech falling to the floor again with a heavy thud. “V-vortex... w-why....?”

 

The jet still had a tight grip on his rotors, twisting around and sitting on the helicopter's stomach. Blue optics were glazed thickly with tears again, bottom lip component wibbling in impeding sorrow. “Y-you're.... you ar-aren't l-leaving, a-are you?,” the youngling sniffed. “Wh-why are you g-going?”

 

“Ah.....,” Vortex started uncertainly. He really loved that harsh grip still pulling at his rotor blades, and would have liked to put this slightly aggressive side of Fireflight's to better use, if it weren't for the spark-broken expression his flyer was wearing. “Well, um, your family is home now, I don't want to get in the way or anything. So, I thought I would just take off you know, and-”

 

“No!,” Fireflight protested loudly. He fell against the helicopter's chestplates, hugging the other tightly. “I-i don't want y-you to go. P-please, st-stay.... Y-you can m-meet my family th-then, and t-then y-you'll be a-able to come o-over anytime you w-want. ....D-don't you want t-to meet my m-mommy and d-daddy, a-and brothers?”

 

Honestly, the answer was no. The Decepticon just didn't do families, especially Autobot ones for the simple fact that....

 

“Hey, 'Flight! Guess what we got for you!,” a chipper mech called, slamming open the bedroom door. “Energon go- oh....”

 

“What's the hold up, Air Raid? Move aside you aft!” The shorter mech from before turned into the room next, freezing in place just behind his older sibling. They stared stunned at the other pair, but then..... “MONSTER!! THERE'S A MONSTER AFTER FIREFLIGHT!!”

 

....Yes, this was exactly why Vortex disliked dealing with Autobot families. Their tendency to overreact was unbelievably annoying to deal with.

 

**xxXxXxx**

 

About a cycle later, and after the shrimp had been subdued and given his medication, Vortex found himself stuck in the living room; seated by his lonesome on the couch, while the rest of the family stood across from him, glaring.

 

“Fireflight.....,” Trailbreaker ordered. “Take a seat in the armchair.”

 

The phantom jet, who had at that moment been fidgeting uncertainly, torn between joining his family or seating himself beside Vortex, acquiesced to the demand, plopping into the only other free chair in the living room. The helicopter found himself staring at the anxious youngling unblinkingly, hypnotized by the flyer's flushed cheekplates and his timid optics. Such a shame though that his family had made him cover up with a robe..... Vortex could only think this seductive image as complete when the marks of his ownership -the denting of slim neck cables, the worn down paint between white thighs, and the streaks of grey across the rest of his plating- were displayed to the rest of the world. At least there was his own scratches and flecks of white paint to show, seeing as how the family didn't feel so inclined to get him dressed as well.

 

“You...um, you,” the camper truck was saying harshly, snapping his fingers to get the Decepticon's attention.

 

“Afthole!,” Slingshot shouted. Silverbolt sent his son a quick reprimanding look for the language.

 

“Vortex,” Fireflight helpfully supplied, seeing as how his sire was still struggling to come up with a title to address the helicopter by.

 

The sound of his name escaping tender lip components though only perked the grey mech up more; Fireflight caught the jovial look Vortex was sending him and blushed in response, smiling a little at the older mech. The sight of this transaction only darkened the atmosphere in the room.

 

“Yes..... Vortex,” Trailbreaker almost growled. This time, the Decepticon actually turned his helm to look at him. “Sneaking into the house while the rest of us are out.... I have to ask: what are your intentions?”

 

Vortex grinned behind his mask, arms slipping up behind his helm as he leaned back against the couch. “Well, they've already been done really,” he chirped in amusement. “Fragging your little Fireflight that is. And might I add, I plan on doing it always from this orn forward.”

 

He just loved the way the others reacted. Slingshot howled like an angry beast, rising up like the dad did, held back from throwing themselves at the helicopter by the others who grabbed their arms. Each and every single glare was like the icing on the cake; what made the cherry though was the way Fireflight blushed at the statement, bowing his helm, his servos cupped anxiously in his lap as he wriggled self-consciously in his seat.

 

“I suggest you watch your language please,” Silverbolt clipped coldly, which was surprising coming from the usually kind Autobot, “And don't refer to my baby like that please.”

 

“Possessive family you got,” Vortex commented, turning to Fireflight.

 

“Don't talk to him, grease-ball!”

 

“Slingshot!,” hissed Air Raid. He tugged on his brother's wing.

 

“What?,” Slingshot shot back. “That crankshaft shouldn't be talking to our brother; he shouldn't even be in the same room with him! We oughta kick his aft to the streets and beat some-mmph!!” Skydive's servos thankfully blocked out the rest of what the smallest jet was going to say.

 

But the damage was already done. Fireflight looked at his family, optics dim and glazed with coolant; his expression positively torn. “You.... you don't like Vortex?,” he asked hesitantly. “M-mommy? Daddy?”

 

“Don't worry 'bout it snowflake,” Vortex piped up jovially. He still was leaning casually on the couch, unconcerned by this “confrontation”. “I'm used to being disliked.”

 

“Fireflight....,” Silverbolt said, drawing the youngling's attention next. He faced his son, his face kind but somewhat worried, as he ignored their unexpected guest for the time being. “We aren't trying to be mean or anything, we just..... I mean, I just don't quite understand. How do you know this mech? He's much too old to be going to your school....”

 

At the gentle reassurance, Fireflight seemed to calm down some. “I met him last year. I bumped into him accidentally when I was trying to catch snowflakes.”

 

“What a lovely happenstance that was,” the helicopter interjected with a purr. The phantom jet blushed again, shyly smiling at the grey mech.

 

“Yes,” Trailbreaker grumbled irritably, “But exactly how did you continue to meet our son? Or did you just decide after a year to sneak into the house while we were gone and.... fornicate with our sparkling while we were absent?”

 

Vortex cocked his helm at the question. “Are you sure you don't want to change that word to 'rape'?”

 

Fireflight leapt to his pedes at the cacophony of noise that followed next; standing between his family and the Decepticon, his arms outstretched and his optics pleading as he faced his loved ones. “P-please,” he cried, “H-he's only teasing. V-vortex never d-did anything l-like that! I s-saw him wh-when I went out w-with Swindle.”

 

“Swindle....,” Skydive remarked, “I thought he was that other 'bot; the mechfriend of First Aid, my old classmate. Didn't they come together to pick you up?”

 

The youngest Autobot's expression crumbled a little bit at the words, his servos falling to his sides slowly. “I...um..... h-he.....”

 

Dark arms were winding about his waist, tugging Fireflight back gently; the phantom jet falling into Vortex's lap, where he was wrapped up tight in the other's embrace, the helicopter nuzzling the flyer's helm with the corner of his mask. “Swindle is my younger brother,” he so graciously informed, his attention mostly focused on Fireflight. “He brought lil' Fireflight to come see me. Didn't he, snowflake?”

 

Any sadness that had been in the Autobot's optics disappeared, as he wrapped his servos around one of Vortex's forearms; tilting his helm back a little so he could look at the Decepticon better, relaxing in the older mech's hold. It was obvious, that though they didn't care for Vortex, Fireflight was smitten with him and he was calmest in the other's arms. “Y-yep!,” he chirped, blushing once more that night.

 

Slingshot grumbled something under his breath and was promptly kicked by Air Raid for it. Rolling his optical sensors, Skydive grabbed both of his brothers' arms, dragging one cursing and one giggling jet out of the living room. After a moment's hesitation, Trailbreaker followed them, but not before casting one final glare at Vortex as he rounded the corner. That left only Silverbolt.

 

Rising to his pedes regally, the condor jet approached the snuggled pair, his optics fixed wholly on the helicopter holding his son. “I don't care for your manipulative, back-door, sneaky ways,” he hissed lowly, leaning in close to the Decepticon. “I especially don't like the fact that you think you can hurt my baby's spark, and just come rushing back in when you decide you want him again. But! Fireflight is obviously happy with you, so I won't protest too much.”

 

The red visor flashed up at him.

 

Silverbolt frowned, wings twitching slightly in ire. “If you do anything to hurt him again though,” he continued, his threat hushed, “I will make certain that you suffer the consequences. And never shall you see my little mechling again.”

 

Expression neutral, the Autobot straightened up, calmly heading for the living room entrance.

 

“You only get ten kliks more, Fireflight,” he called over his shoulder plating. “Then it's off to bed. You've got school in the morning.”

 

“Okay mommy!,” Fireflight called back. Giggling, he twisted in Vortex's arms, facing the grey mech. “Isn't this great? You've met the whole family -now you can come over whenever you'd like!”

 

“Hmmm....yes; amazing,” the helicopter replied distractedly. Honestly, meeting the family or not wouldn't have prevented him from coming over whenever he wished. It would make it hard to corner Fireflight, yes, but not stop him from making the trip all the same. Shrugging it off though, Vortex tugged the jet closer; mask retracting as he bent his helm towards those delicious looking neck cables.

 

He was surprised when white servos pressed against his face, pushing him back and away. “N-no, Vortex,” Fireflight stuttered, helm bowing as he noticed the stunned look his partner wore. “W-we can't.... I-i've gotta go to bed s-soon.”

 

“We'll be quick, I promise,” Vortex grinned, pulling those tender servos away from his face. “Or how 'bout I just suck you off then, hmm? I really want to stick my glossa back inside your greedy, little va-”

 

“V-vortex!” The jet was practically magenta now. Wings fluttering madly, Fireflight quickly glanced over his shoulder plating, almost relieved to see that none of his family had come back to the room yet. “N-no,” he replied, turning back to the helicopter, “M-my family's home n-now. We c-can't be do-doing stuff l-like that.....”

 

Too bad, Vortex thought. He would have loved the chance to show off.

 

“Fireflight, bed!,” came his sire's voice from down in the kitchen. The youngling jumped at the command, while the Decepticon merely scowled.

 

“I-i-i.....g-guess i-it's goodnight then,” Fireflight mumbled, slowly pulling out of Vortex's hold. The helicopter let him go, pouting angrily at the Autobot's departure. He truly despised Autobot families....

 

Getting to his pedes as well, Vortex followed the jet to the front door, noting in his helm how this would be the first time he'd ever exited out of it. What a new experience.

 

“V-vortex....?”

 

At the hesitant call of his name, the grey mech turned to face the speaker; lip components pulling back into a sultry smirk at the nervous image of Fireflight before him. “What is it, snowflake?,” he asked, purring. “You know you make me just want to gobble you up when you look like that.”

 

The Autobot's cheekplates darkened, his optics dropping to the floor for an astrosecond. “I-i, um.... uh....” The jet shook his helm, suddenly pushing himself onto his pede-tips and pecking Vortex on his exposed mouth. The Decepticon's visor flashed in surprise, but before he could grab hold of his precious flyer, Fireflight was twisting away and shuffling for the staircase.

 

“W-well, goodnight,” the youngling smiled softly, bounding up the staircase.

 

Vortex watched him go, his optics fixed to the other's aft.

 

He took half a pede-step towards the staircase when he heard someone clear their vents heavily. Turning his helm, the helicopter caught sight of Trailbreaker standing at the other end of the hall; dark arms crossed over his massive chest and a nasty glare being sent his way. Frowning, Vortex let his mask slide back into place, turning back to the front door.

 

“Fine, fine; I'm leaving...,” he grumbled, heading outdoors. He was barely down the porch steps before the door was shut behind him, the lock thudding heavily into place.


	10. Pets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: STARTS AS DUB-CON, TRANSITIONS TO ALMOST BEING RAPED BEFORE FINISHING. DO NOT READ AHEAD IF UNSETTLED!! Sticky; tentacles; alien beasts

“Vortex.... are you here?”

 

Fireflight nervously glanced around the dark basement, his servos clenched at his chestplates as he tried to peer into the farther corners of the room. He had come down to play with the decorations for a bit since their was nothing else to do in the house, and the rest of the family had said Vortex would be out for a while. Normally, he wouldn't be scared to be by himself down here in the dark, but that was before he heard something slither through the blackness.

 

He seriously hoped it was Vortex. The Decepticon had pretended not to be around one or two times before, and then had snuck up behind the flyer, scaring the wits out of him. Even though Fireflight disliked when the grey mech did that, it was much better than thinking that there was something else -something not Vortex- down in the basement with him.

 

“V-vortex....,” the jet stammered, heading in the direction that he had heard the noise. “Vo-vortex, i-if that's y-you, pl-please..... please s-say something. I-i-i..... I'm s-scared.....”

 

Fireflight padded as softly as he dared, sticking to the wall as he headed deeper into the room. Fumbling, he flipped a switch, a poor, bare bulb flaring to life. It barely banished the gloom, but at the very least, it backed the darkness into tight corners, putting everything else into sight.

 

And that's when the Autobot noticed the box.

 

A simple box really, wrapped in brown shipping paper and a dozen holes cut into each side, but Fireflight had never seen it before and he was intrigued by its presence. Curious, the youngling shuffled toward the box, his earlier fear forgotten.

 

“I wonder what you are for....,” he mused, running his hands along the top of the box.

 

Suddenly it bucked, more slithering coming from within. Giving a startled cry, Fireflight was quick to withdraw, servos clasped at his chestplates again. The box sent out low rumbles, like anxious purring, at the jet's retreat. Cocking his helm uncertainly, the youngling took a step forward. The rumbling dropped a notch.

 

“You.....,” Fireflight swallowed, taking another step forward. “You're a-alive in there, aren't you? What are? Are you a new pet? For Brawl, or maybe Swindle? Does anyone know you're down here?” The rumbles got quieter and quieter until they were little purrs, almost like the ones Vortex made. No longer frightened, the jet put his servos back on the box, mapping out the shape as he tried to peer into the holes. Only darkness met his optics, and yet he could still hear the thing within moving.

 

“I wonder where you came from,” the youngling mused aloud, still searching for a label or some sort of tag saying what was inside or who it was for. “Is it cramped in there? Do you want out?”

 

The unknown creature was still purring. Something tickled along his pedes, catching Fireflight's attention. He peered down at the floor, gasping in shock at the pale green tentacle that was tapping away at his pede. “What is this....?,” he asked, bending down to inspect the thin limb. His attention was drawn away from it though when he noticed another tentacle, and then another one, and another one, and another one....

 

The jet straightened up, sitting down as he stared in wonder at the many tentacles wriggling from the box in front of him. “Oh wow,” he gaped, “There's so many of you. Are you different things or are you all one thing?”

 

He was distracted from the rest of his questions by the tentacles inching forward, sliding against his sides and around his wingtips. “H-hey!,” Fireflight giggled, squirming a little as they slide closer, curling around his plating. “T-that tickles.”

 

The tentacles continued their caressing, tickling the flyer further. He didn't notice that they were dipping lower until a daring tentacle was inching in the seam between his codpiece and the rest of his pelvic plating. Optics flaring brightly in surprise, Fireflight tried to wriggle back, but the tentacles suddenly tightened around his arms, yanking him forwards to the box. “W-wait! What, what a-are you doing?!”

 

The Autobot cried in alarm as all the tugging forced him to the floor, his chin knocking on the basement floor hard. Sniffling a little in pain, Fireflight tried to push himself back up, but more tentacles were wrapping around his legs, keeping him tight against the floor. He didn't start to panic though until he felt his legs being pulled wider apart, the thin limbs sliding along his codpiece once more.

 

Coolant coated his optics as he struggled to get free, craning his neck cables as best as he could to see over his wings at the other tentacles. “P-please! W-wait, don't touch that. I-i-i-i.....Vortex!” Fireflight kicked wildly as best as he could, but he was trapped in the tentacles' hold. He would not be getting free anytime soon. And in the meantime, he was moments away from being raped.

 

“P-please s-stop! I-i-i.... d-don't want to,” the youngling hiccupped, “I-i w-want to g-go now..... pl-please, let m-me go.”

 

The thing in the box was rumbling again in what had once been a soothing manner to Fireflight. The tentacles at the jet's codpiece withdrew for the moment, moving up the youngling's plating; stroking and caressing gently. Despite his hesitance, Fireflight found himself beginning to relax, the loving touches calming him yet at the same time starting to heat him up. He actually moaned softly as the tentacles decided to slide in and under his wings, fingering the sensitive joints with their curious touching.

 

“I....o-oh....I d-don't think.....,” the Autobot gasped as more tentacles slithered back to his codpiece, prying at the warm metal. The rest of his protest was lost as tentacles stroked against his wings joints roughly, exciting the youngling. At the next pressing touch, his codpiece retracted automatically, giving access to the tentacles.

 

“O-ooh....oh...O-oooooaaaaaaahhh!”

 

Fireflight arched as the tentacles shot forwards, slipping into his lubricated valve one by one until there was no more room, and even then a few more forced their way in. They twisted and twined around each other until they were one big column of flesh, rolling against each of the flyer's sensor nodes. Whimpering at the beautiful friction it invoked, the white mech wriggled, waiting in painful anticipation for what would come next. He was hesitant to admit that the creature did not keep him waiting long.

 

As one, the tentacles withdrew slowly, purposefully sliding along the youngling's valve walls, making Fireflight cry out at the blissful sensation. Just as they angled to drive back in, a couple, smaller tentacles shot out from under the jet's chassis; twisting around and plunging into his open mouth. The heavy weight against his glossa muffled the scream that followed as the rest of the tentacles thrust back into his wet valve. Moaning around his mouthful, Fireflight rolled back into the creature's selfish ramming, fans kicking into a squeal and thighs trembling as he was pulled taut against the floor for the thing's plundering.

 

Too quick for the flyer to think about, the tentacles were being yanked out again and slamming back in. The youngling gasped and moaned, choking on the tentacles filling his mouth, tasting the tangy liquid they were excreting. It was a bitter fluid, seeping out of the tentacles' very skin; overflowing his mouth and dribbling down his chin. Nervously, Fireflight tried to swallow it down -lick the tentacles wriggling in his mouth- to reciprocate some of the pleasure being thrown onto him. His poor technique seemed to excite the creature though, who increased its tempo until the youngling lost all sense of himself and his motor functions.

 

He was bucking wildly back into the tentacles, aft high in the air, feeling nothing but the molten heat of sticky fluids oozing into his valve; being squished and squelched as the tentacles continued slamming into his hungry passage.

 

“V......vmmoo-orphhxx!”

 

His optics flared before blacking out entirely, Fireflight arching and wings shivering as he suddenly overloaded. His valve walls clenched tightly around the tentacles, strangling them, even as they twisted and wriggled slightly within the silken vice. Something hot shot itself into the mech's passage, a burning kind of slime that the creature left behind in mock representation of transfluid. Coughing and gagging around the retreating tentacles, the jet spat up the viscous fluid they had left in his mouth, keening as he felt the tentacles behind him withdraw as well.

 

“T-that.....,” he whimpered, trying to sit up. “I-i-i.... u-um, I-i..... I sh-should g-go now....”

 

Fireflight gasped again as the tentacles swayed around him, as if they were dancing, touching his plating with their slimy fingers. “R-really....,” he blushed weakly, squirming a little. “I-i.....V-vortex w-will be h-home, a-and I ne-need t-to go.....” The touches were becoming more insistent again; tentacles sliding between his thighs and under his wings. Frightened, the flyer tried to scramble away, not wanting to go through this again. But the tentacles were reluctant to let him escape, once more cinching around his wrists, arm and ankles, dragging him back towards the box.

 

“W-wait!,” the youngling cried, struggling. The box gave a nasty growl, paper ripping from the side as one of the largest tentacles Fireflight ever did see came into view. It was as thick as his arm almost, covered in all sorts of gnarly bumps and ridges. Its rotund head seemed to be covered in a weird, webbed skin, which pulled back thickly, making it look as if the tentacle was smiling at him toothily as it weaved through the air toward the Autobot.

 

It dipped, sweeping down toward the flyer's exposed valve.

 

“N-no!,” Fireflight shrieked, writhing, even as the tentacles tightened around his limbs, stretching him out for the largest tentacle. He bucked still, tears pooling in his optics and down his cheekplates, but the tentacles only pulled him to the ground, holding him open for the other. “D-don't, pl-please! No, n-no! I-i-i-i, I d-don't w-want it! St-stop!”

 

The jet whimpered and cried, afraid to take his attention off of the tentacle for an astrosecond but not wanting to look all the same. He screamed loudly, helm tossing about as the smaller tentacles tried to pry at his chestplates, to get to the erratic spark beneath. “S-stop! No! N-no, pl-please, let m-me go! V-vortex! VORTEX H-HELP ME, PL-PLEASE!!”

 

Something wooshed through the air above his helm -a dreadful squeal followed, and something breaking and tearing coming from the box ahead of him. Daring to online his optics again, Fireflight hiccupped as he felt the tentacles weaken before being roughly torn away from his body. “V....vo-vortex?,” he sobbed, looking up in disbelief and relief at the Decepticon turning and crouching before him. He dutifully ignored the strange, orange luminescent liquid splattered across his chassis.

 

“You called snowflake?,” Vortex asked casually.

 

With a wail, Fireflight threw himself at the helicopter, burying his face in the other's neck cables and crying there. He garbled nonsense as he clutched desperately to the older mech, needing the comfort of Vortex's arms wrapped around his trembling frame.

 

Somewhat startled by the suddenness at which the Autobot threw himself at him, nonetheless, Vortex gladly pulled the jet closer, nuzzling the youngling's helm with his cheek. “Hush, hush, cutie,” he cooed into Fireflight's audio. “There's nothing bad to be frightened of any more. I'll take care of you.”

 

Fireflight whimpered at the promise, tightening his grip.

 

The grey mech was glad for it. Honestly, when he had come downstairs -after being kindly informed by his family that both his package and the flyer had arrived for him- he had not expected to see his new pet trying to take Fireflight for a spin. Even he knew that anything that size being forced into the youngling would cause him excruciating pain...... and Vortex preferred his possessions not to be broken. Overcome with jealous rage, the helicopter had hardly needed the Autobot's scream of help -his help!- before he was leaping forward and murdering that presumptuous, little alien beast.

 

Such a shame too.... He had been hoping that he and Fireflight could have some fun together with the tentacle creature.

 

Ah, well.

 

First things, first. He had to get the flyer upstairs and cleaned up. And then frag his aft himself, so that the youngling would only have Vortex's essence in and on him once again. “It's alright, snowflake,” Vortex assured again, adjusting Fireflight's position, and lifting the jet as he got to his pedes. “Come. I'll get you washed up.”

 

The white mech sniffled, calming down a little as Vortex started up the basement stairs. He nuzzled the bottom of the helicopter's mask for a moment, before sighing and resting his helm on the other's broad shoulders. “I love you Vortex,” he whispered, shuttering his optics tiredly.

 

Vortex almost stalled for a klik. Glancing down at the contented youngling in his arms, the grey 'bot continued his trek back upstairs silently; his visor flashing as he opened the basement door.


End file.
